


Dismantling Summer

by horror_business



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Brief Depictions of Drowning/Suffocation, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Shameless Big Bang, Summer Love! AU, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horror_business/pseuds/horror_business
Summary: For the past three summers Ian Gallagher has been a lifeguard at Pistakee Lake up in Northern Illinois. What was bound to be a mundane and normal summer was shaken up that first year when he met Mickey Milkovich, the adorable fry cook that worked at the lake’s snack shack. Every summer the boys would reconnect and pick up exactly where they left off, rekindling that old familiar flame. But as the summer of their third year winds down, a secret that Mickey has been keeping comes to light and it’s bound to tear their whole precarious relationship apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The time has come my friends!!! This fic is just three small snapshots of their relationship, each story taking place during a certain month of the summer.  
> Quick note: Mickey is 19-20 in this, Ian just turned 18. Brief mention of an underage relationship, but everyone is of age in the present timeline.
> 
> beautiful art for this fic and be found [here](http://ifuckinlikeit.tumblr.com/post/154558869903/dismantling-summer-horrorbusiness-mckmlkvch) by the ever so wonderful [Britt](http://ifuckinlikeit.tumblr.com/). She has a lot of other pretty things coming for this fic, so keep checking her page for some awesome artwork! Thank you for all the hard work you've put into this for me babes, I appreciate it so much, ily!! ♥♥

_**i.**_  
  
It was the hottest summer on record in years and the season had barely even started. This season that welcomed in the type of heat that permeated every crack and crevice exposed to it, and no matter how high you turned up the air conditioner you still weren't escaping. It was a wet, sticky heat; the kind that makes your clothes adhere to your body the second you walk outside because you’re instantly covered in a salty sweat. It was miserable, everyone was cranky and if you even brushed someone accidentally you were bound to get some vicious words thrown in your direction.  
  
The heat brought a lot of people to the lake looking for any relief they could get from the scorching sun. But all the body heat in the water just aided the sun in warming it up, making the usually cool fresh water feel more like lukewarm bathwater. Ian was perched on a wooden structure that made it possible for him to watch over the small square patch of water that had been buoyed off for swimming, the rest of the lake was strictly used for speedboats and jetskis. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose and reached over to grab the sunscreen next to his chair, smearing more and more of the cream onto his already pinkening skin. Ian was naturally very pale and the first week of summer left him with a blistering red burn that kept him up at night no matter how much sunblock he applied.  
  
The rays from the harsh summer sun lightened his hair, morphing the strands from their usual dark red to different shades of orange and copper. All the freckles that were hidden underneath the surface popped up with a vengeance, appearing in clusters and peppering every inch of skin. It was like his body adapted to match who he was emotionally during the summer; bright, vibrant, fucking alive.  
  
This year would mark the third summer that Ian has worked as a lifeguard at Pistakee Lake up in Northern Illinois, which was about two hours away from his home in Chicago. He’s loved every single second of his time spent here, the clean air and peaceful summer nights were just a few of the things that he would never get back home.  
  
Plus, he got to relax and sunbathe all day and get paid for it. He only had to leave his post occasionally to pull a kid out of the water because the stupid shits couldn’t wait after eating and would cramp up during their swim. He was really just a glorified babysitter, yelling at kids to stop rough housing and to stay on the appropriate side of the buoys.  
  
It was a great way to spend the summer, just soaking up every second of sunlight and hoping that the warmth would pierce through his skin deep enough to dig into his bones and keep him warm during those brutal Chicago winters.  
  
Although one thing he could do without was the goddamn humidity. Heat was manageable, he would gladly lay out in the heat for hours and hours on end, an oasis could always be found underneath some trees or an umbrella after all. But as soon as that suffocating moisture snuck into the air it was unavoidable and made the heat feel _that_ much worse. Humidity brought a different kind of feeling, a nasty oppressive feeling that made sweat seem stickier and saltier than usual. That same sticky nasty sweat was currently dripping down even inch of Ian’s body, he swore even the bottom of his feet were sweating. His balls were going to smell so bad later and all he was doing was fucking sitting in a chair.  
  
And when he went home to the the cottage that he and the few other lifeguards rent for the three months they’re here...well, he gets sticky with sweat a whole different way.  
  
He met Mickey the first summer he started working here, instantly attracted to the boy with jet black hair and the backwards baseball cap who came equipped with a quick temper and sharp tongue. Ian first laid eyes on him when he went to the lakes snack shack to get a quick bite to eat after doing absolutely nothing all afternoon. He spotted Mickey in the back near the dinky grill and bubbling fryer, a permanent scowl on his face as he bustled around the hot, stuffy shack pumping out burgers and french fries to hungry swimmers for hours.  
  
Ian stared at him for a moment, hypnotized until the girl working the register snapped her gum loudly and asked Ian what he wanted for the third time in a row. Shaking his head, he replied with a random food item he didn’t even want, too distracted by  the sight of Mickey picking up the corner of his shirt, exposing a little bit of his stomach, wiping away the sweat dripping down his forehead. Once Ian paid for his soon to be unfulfilling meal, he stood off to the side to wait and kept glancing at Mickey every so often through the pick up window.  
  
His first actual encounter with Mickey was at the annual summer kick off party held at one of the employee cottages. It was very loud, very cramped and very hot. Ian had _kind of_ been stalking Mickey all night since he saw him walk through the door two hours earlier. It wasn’t noticeable, but he made sure he was very aware of the other man’s whereabouts the entire evening.  
  
When Mickey belched loudly and started yelling about needing a beer pong partner, Ian might have been a little _too_ eager to volunteer.  
  
Four games later, they were properly buzzed and leaning on each other, laughing and gloating about their victories until they were forcibly removed from the pong table and pushed into a corner of the room. All it took was Mickey licking his lips salaciously, his eyes sweeping up and down Ian’s body while asking “who the fuck are you?” for Ian to crash his lips messily against Mickey’s.  
  
There were so many ways that plan of action could have gone terribly wrong, but thankfully Mickey was very, _very_ receptive. They stayed in that corner for hours getting completely trashed; downing beer after beer and talking to each other, fucking laughing and joking and making out occasionally to the chorus of hoots and hollers coming from the crowd around them.  
  
Mickey left Ian in the corner at one point to take a piss and when he came stumbling back into the room Ian was passed out against the wall, beer can tilted and spilling onto his shorts, snoring loudly. Mickey chuckled and grabbed a pillow from the couch, laying Ian down on the floor with the pillow resting snuggly underneath that red head.  
  
The next morning Ian woke up with a splitting headache and drool dried on his face, the smell of stale beer assaulting his nostrils. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his eyes aggressively as the bright as fuck sun shined in through the grimy windows.  
  
Working the lake that afternoon was torture, Ian spent most of his shift slouched back in his chair on the lifeguard stand, dozing off behind his sunglasses. It was dangerous as fuck, sleeping while on duty, but he was honestly so hungover he didn’t even care if a snotty brat drown.  
  
Memories of the night before came back to him in vivid detail every so often, snapshots of bright blue eyes and a dazzling smile breaking through the hungover fog of his brain. He instantly knew who this person was and sober Ian wanted to high five drunk Ian for managing to make out with the hot guy all night. Though for the life of him he couldn’t remember his name, or if they even exchanged names at all.  
  
He slugged his way over to the snack shack at one point, hoping it wasn’t too busy so he could talk to the mystery man for a second, even if it was to just thank him for the pillow. Luckily the shack was deserted when he walked up to the counter. Ian caught the other man’s eye and waved awkwardly in his direction, smiling slightly because shit, he was just as beautiful as drunk Ian thought he was.  
  
The dark haired man smirked and walked over to the counter, wiping his hands on his apron as he went.  
  
“Heeeey, look who fuckin' survived. I remember my first beer,” he said teasingly, throwing in a wink at the end of his sentence like an asshole.  
  
Ian laughed despite himself and flipped the guy off, “Fuck you, I had a lot to drink.”  
  
The other man laughed and it was probably the best sound Ian had ever heard. He looked down at his bare feet and rubbed the back of his neck before ploughing on with the uncomfortable part of this conversation, “So, I’m gonna sound like a dick, but I don't remember your name…” he trailed off.  
  
“Well shit, I shouldn’t even tell ya now. Apparently I’m not memorable enough,” the black haired man said, licking the side of his mouth and raising an eyebrow up his forehead.  
  
Ian groaned at the teasing, he somehow knew that he wouldn’t make this easy for him. “Oh, you’re plenty memorable,” he said flirtatiously, his eyes flickering down to those soft lips he was lucky enough to taste last night, “I just turn into an idiot when I'm trashed.”  
  
The man smirked again before reaching his hand out, Ian noticing for the first time the dark black letters inked into the skin of his fingers, “Mickey.”  
  
Ian grasped his hand, holding on for a little too long, propelling this normal handshake into awkward territory, “Ian.”  
  
Mickey squeezed Ian’s hand a little tighter and trailed his eyes over his exposed chest for a few seconds before letting go. Ian’s palm felt freezing cold in it’s absence despite the summer heat.  
  
The rest was history, or so they say.  
  
The thing about summer romances though is that they have an expiration date stamped on them from the start. It was a beautiful and intense romance for the three months they were together that first summer and it was bittersweet knowing that they would have to wait months to reconnect again. But before they parted that first year, Ian had learned that they both were from the South Side of Chicago, living in equally shitty neighborhoods on opposite sides of the city. Ian was ecstatic to find this out, taking solace in the fact that even when the season was over Mickey was only a few stops away on the train.  
  
Mickey shot that plan down real quick one night when their days left at the lake were dwindling down:  
  
_It was a gorgeous night, one of those nights that just_ _felt like the end of summer was near, that ominous feeling lingering like a storm cloud over everyone. The time of year when the sun starts setting a little bit earlier, the crickets stop screaming as loud and the nights carry a little bit of a chill that makes your sunburned skin break out in goosebumps._ _  
__  
__The two boys were sharing a blunt and a pint of whiskey on an old dock that was only accessible if you walked a few minutes through the woods. This was their fucking dock, their meeting spot, the one spot that was completely and utterly_ theirs, _abandoned and forgotten about. The sun was just starting to set and it made the water look like a painting, mixing together hues of pink and gold. Ian had his shoes off, his bare feet dangling off the edge of the dock, his toes skimming slightly against the top of the water and kicking up waves every so often, the drops of water falling down like small diamonds sparkling in the sun._ _  
__  
__Mickey was laying down shirtless, eyes closed with one arm pillowing his head while the other one brought the blunt to his lips, inhaling slowly._ _  
__  
__Ian glanced at Mickey, taking in the soft dips and curves of his chest, his skin glistening with barely there sweat. He held himself back from trailing his fingers softly over his skin just to_ feel _him._ _  
__  
__“I just-I don’t understand why we can’t even be_ friends _back home,” Ian whispered, keeping his eyes focused on a hole in the dock._ _  
__  
__“I told you already.” Mickey said, exasperated, as he exhaled a cloud of grey smoke, smacking his hand against his chest when a mosquito landed on him._ _  
__  
__Ian took a sip of the whiskey, hoping the burn of the alcohol would quell the burn of this conversation. “We don’t gotta fuck or anything. I just want to see you.”_  
  
_Mickey huffed heavily,_ “ _I’m a different person here than I am back home, Gallagher, I told ya that. It’s just not gonna happen_. _End of discussion.” Mickey said, eyes still closed, the force of his words getting the point across nonetheless._ _  
__  
__Ian reached over for the blunt, their fingers grazing against each other briefly. They sat in silence for a few minutes, alternating between hitting the blunt and sucking down the last of the whiskey until their brains were as twisted around as Ian's heart felt._ _  
__  
__“I’m gonna miss you,” Ian said softly, hoping the knot in his throat didn’t muffle his words._ _  
__  
__Mickey popped one eye open, staring at Ian as the harsh rays of the setting sun made his hair look more fiery than usual._ _  
__  
__"I’m gonna miss you too,” Mickey sighed._ _  
__  
_ Ian had pathetically pined for Mickey since the ending of that summer, counting down the days on his calendar until he could see Mickey again, the weeks not falling away fast enough.  
_  
_ Waiting nine months to see Mickey after that wasn’t easy, but it got better with time. Separating again that second summer didn’t hurt as much since Ian already knew what to expect, so he just counted his lucky stars that he even got to spend a few short months with Mickey. He just learned to sit back and enjoy the time they had together and try not to think of the incoming months where he would be falling asleep alone in his bed. He locked away detail after detail in his mind to replay when he was missing Mickey during the winter, hoping that the memories would warm his body when the gas got shut off.  
  
None of those memories even came close to satiating his hunger for the other man.  
  
But summer was finally here again and before the sun set that evening he would have Mickey in his arms, his taste on his lips, his skin sticky beneath his hands. Ian wouldn’t feel like he was missing a huge piece of himself for the first time in a long time.  
  
His eyes scanned out over the lake, looking for any of the telltale signs of someone drowning. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.  The perfect picture of summer nonchalance and relaxation. Everything was pretty uneventful for now, summer vacation had basically just started so the full barrage of annoying family vacations hadn’t kicked into full swing just yet. Really, the only people swimming in the lake were locals who were just jumping into cool off from the already overbearing heat. He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses, hoping to nap quickly while things were still quiet.  
  
He awoke with a jolt, something lightly tickling the bottom of his foot. He jerked his foot back from the side of the lifeguard stand and leaned over to look down at the ground. He was greeted with the beaming smile of one his fellow lifeguards.  
  
“Karen! Holy shit, didn’t think you were coming back this year!”  Ian said, stretching his hand out to help her climb up to the top of the structure.  
  
She stumbled onto the platform, her cheap sandals almost slipping off her feet completely. She regained her footing with ease, wiping her hands off on her shorts, “Yeah well, I figured why the fuck not? I need some more money before I head back to college and this job is easy as fuck.”  
  
Ian snorted, nodding his head in agreement. “You’re entering your sophomore year, right?”  
  
“Urgh, yes, don’t remind me. I just want it to be over already,” she responded. She put the backpack that was slung over her shoulder next to her chair and proceeded to take off her shirt and shorts, leaving her in just her bright red bikini. She threw herself down onto her beach chair, wiggling around until she got comfortable.  
  
“What are you studying again?” Ian asked, fixing his sunglasses which got knocked slightly askew as he sat down as well, easily falling back into the same relaxed position.  
  
Karen huffed, like she was already exhausted with her career choice, “Psychology. I figured I’ve been dealing with my kooky mother my whole life, it would be nice to find out what makes us tick,” she tapped the side of her head as she placed her own sunglasses on her face and leaned her head back against the chair, fully succumbing to the summer laziness already.  
  
“You just graduated high school, didn’t you?” Karen asked.  
  
Ian hummed and nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
“That’s great, congrats! Got any plans for college?”  
  
Ian laughed incredulously, “Fuck no. Like I could afford it.”  
  
“Doesn’t one of your siblings go to college? I thought there was a Gallagher on my class list.”  
  
“Yeah, my genius of a fucking brother. He got a full ride. Don’t think it was the same Gallagher though unless you go to IIT. College ain’t for me, my dazzling C average won’t open too many doors,” Ian said sardonically.  
  
“Have you thought about any other options? I think you would be a killer EMT...well, maybe _killer_ isn’t the right word, but I think you would be awesome! You already know CPR,” she laughed flippantly.  
  
Ian gave a half assed grin as he stared out into the lake. He didn’t really think of his career options at all before graduating high school, he just wanted to receive that flimsy piece of paper and wipe his hands clean of the whole thing. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, he was just floating at sea and swimming through the waves as they came, navigating through them as expertly as possible. He knew he would have to choose something eventually, but for now he was content with working shitty little minimum wage jobs until he figured it out.  
  
If he ever figured it out.  
  
They talked for a few minutes, catching each other up on the insignificant minutia of their lives and the past few months. Karen was another Chicago native, one of the few floating around their small circle of lifeguards and food workers, but their paths had never crossed back home. Chicago was a big city after all.  
  
After a minute or two of amicable silence, Karen sprung up from her laidback position, “Oh shit! I forgot to tell you! Your boy is over there,” she said, her eyebrows clearly wiggling behind her massive shades.  
  
Ian’s eyes bulged wildly as he sat up, “Mickey?” he asked. Okay...maybe he sort of yelled.  
  
Karen rolled her eyes and reached down into her bag to pull out a bottle of water, twisting off the cap and taking a sip before she answered, “No, the king of England. Of course it’s fucking Mickey, you shit!” she replied sarcastically, leaning back in her chair to continue the exhausting process of tanning.  
  
Ian grinned so wide the sun was practically reflecting off his pearly whites. He stood up and hopped off the lifeguard tower, landing softly in the sand with an _oomph_. He wasted no time in trying to get across the short expanse of land to the snack shack, jogging across the beach, kicking up sand in his wake. Eager wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how excited he was to see Mickey’s beautiful, smiling face after nine months.  
  
“You’re welcome!” he heard Karen yell from behind him. He gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder in thanks but continued running.  
  
The snack shack was a small building, barely big enough to fit all the required equipment and food let alone the two or three employees it took to run the thing. The shack was painted blue, the paint peeling and flaking off from lack of upkeep. There were two windows cut out of the shack, one for ordering and one for pick up. These windows were kept covered at night with a door that unhinged from above, locking into place on the inside.There was only one door in or out of the shack and it was a straight shot to the kitchen.  
  
Ian walked over to the screened in door and peered inside, his palms leaning flat against the doorframe. He squished his face against the screen, morphing his features comically so he could see inside better. His eyes scanned the small kitchen quickly and once he spotted the slightly shorter man he couldn’t stop himself from cracking the biggest smile, his lips catching briefly on the screen.  
  
“Hey Mick!” he yelled into the kitchen.  
  
Mickey whipped around, his apron twirling around him like a dress. Mickey’s smile took up his whole goddamn face and Ian thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Mickey walked over to the door, locking eyes with Ian through the screen and laughing at his deformed features.  
  
“Hey,” Mickey said softly, fondly, “wanna meet me out back for a smoke?”  
  
Ian nodded enthusiastically, stepping away from the door and walking around towards the back of the building to wait. He leaned up against the scratchy wood of the shack, lightly bouncing his head off the wall while smiling like a dope. It was always exciting to see Mickey again, his fingers itching to touch him, his lips burning to taste him and the racing of his heart definitely didn’t have to do with his jog over here.  
  
God, he missed Mickey.  
  
Mickey showed up a minute or two later, unlit cigarette already hanging from his still smiling lips. Ian grinned at him, pushing himself off the wall and walking to meet Mickey halfway, impatiently waiting to close that gap between them.  
  
“Got in late last night?” Ian asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Mickey answered breathlessly, eyes trailing up and down Ian’s exposed chest. He plucked the cigarette from his lips and held it between his fingers as he reached forward and curled his fingers into the waistband of Ian’s swim trunks. He yanked him forward roughly and immediately leaned in and formed his lips against Ian's.  
  
Ian almost melted into the floor and it wasn’t from the summer heat. It was a delicate kiss, with slow movements and lazy passes of tongues, like their mouths and muscles were trying to remember the moves to an old, familiar dance. Ian had been craving this for nine months; nine long, lonely fucking months. No one tasted as good as Mickey did. No one’s mouth fit as perfectly against his as Mickey’s did. No one filled that hole in his chest quite like Mickey did.  
  
The kiss was over way too fast in Ian’s opinion, chasing after Mickey’s lips as soon as he pulled away. Mickey chuckled but prevented Ian from going back for more with the hand still clutching the front of Ian’s swim trunks, keeping him an arm’s length away.  
  
“Fuck, I missed that,” Mickey breathed out.  
  
Ian laughed and knocked Mickey’s arm out of the way as he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Mickey’s waist, pulling him closer so they were standing chest to chest again. He dropped his head to rest against Mickey’s forehead, finally staring into the blue eyes he’d been dreaming about for fucking months. Mickey's hand came up to hold onto the back of Ian's head, his fingers tangling themselves into his soft tufts of hair as his eyes bounced over every inch of Ian's freckle peppered skin.  
  
“You and me both,”  Ian whispered through a smile.  
  
They silently stood like that for what felt like hours, but in reality was only a few minutes. They stood wrapped up in each other, physically and emotionally, the outside world completely falling away around them, time basically screeching to a halt. It was only the two of them in this little bubble, their eyes not looking anywhere else, their thoughts completely occupied with the person in front of them. There could have been sirens blaring directly next to their faces and neither of them would have even flinched at the sound.  
  
They kissed briefly a few more times, relishing in the fact that they were finally together again, skin on skin, lips on lips, twin dopey smiles plastered on both their faces.  
  
Mickey soon pulled away completely causing a chill running through Ian’s body, feeling bereft of warmth suddenly. Mickey placed the cigarette between his lips and pulled the lighter out his pocket, cupping his hand around the end of the cigarette to block the nonexistent wind and inhaled sharply.  
  
“So, how you been? Winter was good to you, huh? Damn,” Mickey said, his eyes sweeping up and down Ian’s frame a few times.  
  
Ian’s face flared up in embarrassment. Because yeah, the last few months were hell on his hormones but it did wonders for his body, pushing away that awkward gangly form he used to have as he finally grew into his height, defined muscles popping up with minimal effort. He had to play it cool though, so he just shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against the wall, propping his foot up behind him.  
  
“Same old shit. Graduated high school before coming here, so there’s that,” he said nonchalantly.  
  
Mickey raised his eyebrows, “No shit? Congrats man! Any plans for college?”  
  
Ian shook his head, aggravated with this question already. He knew he would be bombarded with these types of questions for a long time to come, it was just annoying hearing it from the two people he least expected to give a shit about his future.  
  
Karen was a fairweather friend, dropping all connections when the summer ended and only knotting together those loose ends again when they met back at the lake. She didn’t give any fucks about Ian or Ian’s future and frankly he didn't really care about her's.  
  
As for Mickey, well...his relationship with Mickey was complicated to say the least. Mickey had a way of making Ian feeling like he was invincible, that when they were together they could rule the fucking world. Mickey never made Ian feel like he didn’t matter, he constantly reminded him how smart and brave he was, always making sure that Ian knew that he fucking cared about him and his well being. But Mickey was a fairweather friend, too, in a way. He held Ian up the entire summer only to tear down those support beams at the end of August, leaving Ian bereft and lost until the start of the new season. Mickey cared about him in his own way, Ian could fucking feel in the palms of his hands and on the skin of his lips, he just wished he had that support all year round.  
  
“Nope, I got no fuckin’ clue,” Ian answered, finally.  
  
Mickey laughed. “Aye, ‘least you graduated, even if it is just a damn piece of paper. I didn’t even get through my fuckin’ freshman year, but I found something that worked for me that _wasn’t_ illegal, surprisingly.” Mickey inhaled sharply, looking over at Ian with a smirk, “you’ll figure it out, got all the fuckin’ time in the world.”  
  
Ian smiled, his eyes flitting around Mickey’s smirking face. Mickey just always knew the right thing to say to ease his doubts and clear his head. He reached his hand out, making a grabby gesture for the cigarette. Mickey handed it over willingly, taking off his hat and scratching his nails through his hair. Mickey only wore the baseball hat when he was working, saying he would rather wear a hat than a _goddamn fucking hairnet_. Ian thought it was a damn shame he didn’t wear it more often, he just looked so fucking cute. Not that he would ever tell Mickey that, he could already see the fucking scowl slipping across Mickey's face at the word cute being used to describe him.  
  
Ian inhaled from the cigarette, squinting at Mickey through the haze of smoke. He was so fucking gorgeous; the paleness of his skin contrasting sharply with his jet black hair, he had those perfectly plump lips that felt amazing wrapped around Ian’s dick, and God, those fucking eyes. He missed him so much and he wanted nothing more than the day to be over so he can finally, _fucking finally_ , have Mickey in bed by his side, sticky skin against sticky skin.  
  
“What about you, how’ve you been?” Ian asked, taking another hit off the cigarette before passing it back.  
  
Mickey shrugged while he grabbed the butt, sniffing quickly before answering. “Ya know, same ole’, same ole’.”  
  
But Ian didn’t fucking know. Mickey never talked about his life at home no matter how much Ian poked and prodded, he never gave anything up. It took him a full summer to get Mickey to tell him his last name and what he did for work back home and even then all he got was a clipped “Milkovich. Mechanic,” like he was reading it from a flash card of mundane facts.  
  
It was so damn frustrating. Ian wanted to know everything about him. But he knew nothing, only what Mickey was willing to reveal, which honestly wasn’t much at all. The only Mickey he knew was the Mickey that was here, with him, every summer. He loved that Mickey, he honestly, truly did.  
  
But he wanted to love the other Mickey too.  
  
Ian took in a deep breath, willing his brain to pop back to the here and now and not wallow in despair right now. “You goin’ to Pete’s party tonight?”  
  
“Fucking ‘course I am. Not gonna miss a party Gallagher, come on,” Mickey smiled, killing the rest of the cigarette and tossing it the ground.  
  
“You got your car here this year?” Ian asked.  
  
After Mickey told Ian he was a mechanic, he naturally had to ask a few follow up questions, nosey fucker that he was. Mickey’s eyes lit up when he was talking about his job though, spilling thoughts and facts freely like this is one part of his life he was willing to share. Ian had learned that Mickey had got his greasy hands on a classic 1966 Mustang Convertible. She was rundown and poorly cared for, but Mickey had spent months scouring through junkyards and online auctions trying to find all the original pieces and put her back together.  
  
When they parted ways last summer, Mickey had mentioned that the car might finally be complete this summer, fully functional and legal so they could drive around with the top down all summer.  
  
Ian was positive he knew more about that damn car than he knew about Mickey.  
  
Mickey grinned that stupid little grin he only whips out when he's talking about his car. “Sure do! Spruced her up a bunch too, she’s looking real nice.”  
  
“Wanna pick me up before you head to the party?” Ian asked.  
  
Mickey walked over to where Ian was still casually leaning against the shack and reached his hand out, trailing it gently down Ian’s chest, seemingly leaving a blaze of fire in it’s wake before he landed on Ian's hip and grabbed onto him softly. Ian looked at Mickey through heavy lidded eyes, loving the carefree look on the other man’s face.  
  
Mickey pulled Ian closer to him and leaned in, forming his lips to Ian’s again, now heavy with the taste of smoke and nicotine. Ian mewled into the kiss, wrapping one arm around Mickey to pull him closer and moving his hand up to grab onto the side of Mickey’s neck, his thumb resting on the pulse point there and applying a small amount of pressure.  
  
Ian was desperate for this kiss, craving the taste of Mickey’s lips since last summer and that quick kisses earlier did nothing to placate him, he didn’t think anything ever would. Kissing Mickey was all consuming, it ignited every fucking goddamn nerve in his body, had him tingling from the tips of his hair to the bottom of his toes. It was addicting. It took his breath away and gave him life at the same fucking time. Mickey always had been a contradiction like that, the FUCK U-UP tattooed on some of the gentlest hands Ian had ever felt were a testament to that fact.  
  
He moved his lips feverishly against Mickey’s own, quickly dropping his jaw, peeking his tongue out to sweep into Mickey’s mouth. He pulled him impossibly closer against his chest, wanting to have no space between them, not even a wisp of air separating them. Ian would gladly kiss Mickey until his lungs gave out.  
  
Mickey didn’t let it get too far though, knowing that both of them would become way too hot and riled up and that kind of sexual frustration wasn’t needed when it was this sweltering outside. He pulled back slowly, begrudgingly, and brought Ian’s bottom lip with him, nipping the tender flesh lightly before letting go.  
  
“Get back to saving stupid shitheads from drownin’. I’ll see you tonight when I pick you up,” Mickey mumbled against Ian’s lips.  
  
Ian whined, pulling Mickey back in for one more quick, heated kiss before allowing him to pull away completely. He backed away from Mickey but didn’t turn around, trying to keep his eyes on him for as long as possible, walking backwards across the sand towards his lifeguard tower. He would be happy to sit there for the rest of the day with the taste of Mickey on his lips, hopeful that would make the hours tick by faster.  
  
“And put some more sunscreen on, you fuckin’ pale Irish asshole! I ain’t listening to you whine all goddamn night!” Mickey yelled from the door of the shack, keeping the screen propped open with his ass.  
  
Ian flipped Mickey off with both hands, the smirk on the other man’s face causing a warmth to bloom in his chest that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on him.  
  
He got back to the lifeguard tower and climbed up the wooden structure until he was settled back into his seat. He wiggled around a bit until he found that sweet spot and leaned his head back to return to the cliched summer reclining position.  
  
“Hey Ian?” he heard Karen ask.  
  
He hummed, keeping his head back and his eyes closed, the grin still etched onto his face. “Your metaphorical boner is showing.”  
  
Ian’s mouth popped open in mock offense, sitting up and moving to shove a manically laughing Karen in her shoulder, pushing her off balance for moment.  
  
Yeah, summer had officially started.  
  


* * *

  
Ian had probably fixed his hair a hundred times by now, staring into the mirror and trying to get it to part a certain way and to get that one piece in the back to stop sticking up like a defiant shithead. He was nervous for some reason, like Mickey hadn’t seen him at his best and worst in the time they’ve known each other.  
  
But this was the first real opportunity they have had to hang out in months and he wanted to make sure he looked fucking _good_.  
  
He sighed at the mirror, glaring at himself as he gave up on his hair cooperating with him this evening. He walked out into the living room and towards his bedroom on the right side of the house. The cottage was small and cramped, though they managed to fit a lot into the tiny space. The cottage was perfectly square; the kitchen, living room and bathroom neatly snuggled in between the bedrooms, two rooms on either side of the communal space.  
  
Ian walked into his small bedroom, barely big enough to fit the full size bed, nightstand and dresser. He didn’t need much, he was used to sharing a room with his brothers after all, so having the place to himself was a welcome reprieve from the smell of dirty socks and BO. The privacy was the best part.  
  
Mickey and Ian slept curled together every night during the summer no matter how sweltering the heat was that night. They alternated whose place they would be staying at for the evening, but more often than not they ended up back at Ian’s cottage, fighting to get the side of the bed that got the most attention from the window fan.  
  
Ian walked over to his bureau, tripping over his discarded swim trunks as he went, catching himself on the dresser before he could smash his face on the corner. He righted himself quickly and grabbed the bottle sitting on the bureau, spritzing himself a few times with the cologne that he specifically remembered Mickey saying he liked, smoothing his hands down his shirt in a vein attempt to make some of the smaller wrinkles disappear.  
  
He then shuffled over to the nightstand and pulled open the top drawer, checking for what felt like the hundredth time that the lube and condoms he bought earlier were in there. He knew that when he had Mickey underneath him later he wouldn’t want to waste any time tracking down the necessary items, making sure they were within arms reach at all times.  
  
A loud honking came from outside his window, causing Ian to jolt and slam the drawer shut like the supplies in there was some scandalously incriminating evidence. He poked his finger through the blind covering the window and pulled down the slat to see Mickey casually leaning against the side of his car.  
  
Ian grinned and whipped out of the room like a tornado, barely remembering to lock the front door on his way out.  
  
If there was a modern day remake of Grease, Ian was one hundred percent sure that Mickey could play Danny. He was wearing all black; black jeans, black tank top, black boots, black fucking car. Black everything. He was leaning against the car with his arms folded in front of his chest, cocky smirk plastered across that fucking face.  
  
Ian wanted to drop to his knees immediately.  
  
Instead, he walked towards Mickey and ignored him in lieu of checking out the car. He gave a low whistle as he walked around the vehicle, lightly dragging his fingers across the shiny new paint job, trying to compare the old pictures that Mickey showed him to the car he was seeing before him now. It didn’t look anything like the rusted, broken down piece of shit that he remembered seeing on Mickey’s cracked phone screen.  
  
“She looks good, Mick. Real good. You’ve done a great job. I wouldn’t even be able to tell this was the same car,” Ian grinned.  
  
Mickey’s cheeks turned pink as his eyes lit up. He walked over to Ian and started explaining all the work that he’s put into the car since they last spoke, outlining all the changes and restorations he’s poured his heart and sweat in to.  
  
Ian wasn’t really paying attention to the words Mickey was saying, he was more lost in the look on the other man’s face while he was talking. Mickey’s entire face just beamed, he was fucking radiant when he was talking about his desires and passions. It was endearing, hearing him drone on and on about how long it took to find the right seats and how the guy from one junkyard was trying to scam him on the radiator so he had to pull some “Milkovich intimidation tactics”.    
  
Pride was a good look on Mickey and Ian would kill to have that look directed at him one of these days.  
  
Mickey looked over at Ian during the middle of his monologue, doing a double take when he noticed Ian was staring and grinning. “The fuck you lookin’ at?” he asked with a grin.  
  
Ian smiled wider and looked away briefly, his cheeks flushing a little bit. “Nothing. Continue,” he said.  
  
Mickey looked at him skeptically, but kept talking. He walked Ian around the car and continued talking about parts and the labor that went into fixing it, pointing out some things that he did to customize the car a little bit without taking away the classic charm.  
  
They had completely walked around the car four times now and Ian was starting to get dizzy. Thankfully Mickey seemed to have run out of things to say and had stopped on the passenger side of the car, leaning against the side with his eyebrow cocked, looking at Ian with that goddamn smirk again.  
  
“Okay, one question,” Ian said, holding up his index finger. Mickey nodded once giving him the go ahead to continue, “so, do you, like, hand wash this baby? Sporting some booty shorts and a tank top, getting all wet and sudsy while you lean over the hood to get that ooooone stubborn dirty spot that’s just outta your reach? ‘Cause I’d pay to see that,” Ian chuckled.  
  
Mickey gave Ian the most unimpressed look he could muster, flipping him off before opening the passenger side door, “Get in, asshole.”  
  
Ian grinned and pecked Mickey on the lips quickly before he slid into the seat. “Such a gentlemen,” he crooned up at him.  
  
Mickey just rolled his eyes and shut the door a little too roughly as he walked around to his side of the car and plopped down into his seat with a smirk. He adjusted the rear-view mirror a smidge before he looked over at Ian.  
  
“You ready?” he asked, his hand reaching for the keys in the ignition, jiggling them a little to add to the anticipation.  
  
Ian nodded enthusiastically. He honestly, truly, didn’t give a shit about the car. But this was something that Mickey had poured his soul into and he was damn well going to act like this was the highlight of his evening. Mickey grinned, turning the keys and starting the Mustang with a roar. Mickey bit his bottom lip and wiggled his eyebrows at Ian.  
  
Ian laughed real quick before he said anything, “Yeah, yeah. She sounds fucking beautiful. Now let’s go!”  
  
Mickey peeled away from the curb, the motor growling as he accelerated. It was a beautiful night and if it wasn’t so goddamn humid Ian would almost call it perfect. The sun hadn’t fully set yet, but some stars were poking through the twilight blanket and the moon was about to make its dramatic appearance soon.  
  
Ian threw his hands up into the air, shouting out loudly towards the sky, the _woo’s_ getting swept away in the wind. He closed his eyes, smiling so wide his cheeks were starting to hurt. There was an electric current pumping through his veins, making his skin tingle and his heart pound. He felt so free and happy; not a single worry in the world and the boy he was infatuated with by his side. He felt fucking invincible, higher than any drug had ever been able to elevate him.  
  
He screamed out again, his voice tapering out into a deep belly laugh. He hasn’t felt this alive in a long, long time, his body tingling all over. It felt fucking _good_ , he wondered if Mickey felt this good too.  
  
They were flying down the street, Mickey taking the sharp turns a little _too_ sharply. Ian’s hair was blowing all over the place, he noticed with disdain. The time he meticulously spent in front of the mirror that evening was all for naught. He looked over at Mickey and noted that not a single strand of black hair had been blown out of place, still slicked back to the top of his head, expertly quaffed.  
  
Every time Ian looked at Mickey it felt like his heart skipped a beat. He’s missed him so fucking much it was kind of scary. He couldn’t wait to have him in bed, hot and malleable underneath him, panting, swearing and fucking moaning. But as cheesy as it sounded, Ian might have been more excited to have Mickey sleeping next to him again, to wake up his soft face and tousled hair.  
  
His gazed dropped to examine the long milky curve of Mickey’s neck, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he laughed at some joke on the radio. He greedily soaked in the way his lips curved up and made those adorable little dimples dent his cheeks and those small crinkles pop up in the corner of his eyes. God, those blue eyes of his always seemed to be bright and sparkling, at least when they were together.  
  
The way Mickey was seated was the perfect picture of an early 1960’s bad boy, with his hair styled like that, driving this fucking car, one arm resting on the back of the seat and the other on the wheel. All he needed was a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and the whole picture would be complete, but knowing Mickey and this car he probably wouldn’t allow that.  
  
Ian groaned audibly. He needed Mickey and he needed him right the fuck now.  
  
He scooted over across the leather. One of the advantages of the bench seat (that Mickey made sure to mention how rare they were in this make and model a million times) was that there was nothing in the way of keeping him from pushing his body right up against Mickey’s.  
  
Mickey looked at Ian quickly out of the corner of his eye, smirking a little like he knew what Ian was cooking up, before focusing his eyes back on the road.  
  
Ian just smirked back and continued to scoot over, placing his hand above Mickey’s knee once he got close enough, rubbing small circles into the fabric of his jeans with his thumb. He shuffled closer _still_ until he was completely flush against Mickey’s side, his hand moving further up and up his thigh, massaging and squeezing that defined muscle.  
  
Ian loved Mickey’s legs, so fucking thick and strong, especially when wrapped around his hips or head. He feathered his lips across Mickey’s skin, starting at his shoulder and leaving a trail of kisses all the way up his neck until he got to his ear, pulling the lobe in between his teeth.  
  
“Pull over,” he whispered huskily.  
  
Mickey’s hand gripped the wheel harder, his fingers curling around the leather so tightly his knuckles started turning white. “Come on man, we got places to be,” he whined.  
  
It was ineffective and not very convincing seeing as he rolled his head to the side so Ian had more skin to lick and suck. His eyes never left the road, but the fluttering of his eyelids couldn’t have been very safe.  
  
Ian pulled Mickey’s zipper down slowly, sucking a red mark into his neck as he did so. “Pull over,” he breathed out again, shoving his hand down Mickey’s pants to rub his growing erection over the material of his boxers.  
  
Mickey hissed and jerked the wheel hard to the right, skidding and bouncing into the dirt on the side of the road, a cloud of dust puffing up from under the tires as he put the car into park.  
  
Ian smirked against his neck, pulling his cock out of his boxers and shuffling around until he could lean down and engulf Mickey in his mouth.  
  
Mickey groaned, carding his hand through Ian’s hair as he threw his head back against the seat. “Hurry the fuck up, anyone can see us with the top down,” he groaned.  
  
Ian hummed in affirmation and continued to bob his head up and down with a newfound urgency.  
  
Needless to say they were a little late to the party, sporting twin smiles and blissed out faces, Mickey’s neck adorned with a few soon to be bruises.  
  
The party was already loud and out of control, music booming through the speakers as people laughed and shouted over the noise. It wasn’t just the lifeguards and food workers from the lake who were at this party, literally anyone who spent their summer working near Pistakee showed up; restaurant staff, bartenders, ice cream scoopers, fucking anyone and everyone. It was the most random mix of people and Ian loved every second of it.  
  
Mickey grinned at Ian, gripping onto his wrist as he pulled him through the throngs of people and into the kitchen, straight to the keg. Pete was manning the keg, standing around it like he was the fucking king of summer, his foot propped up on the top of the keg.  
  
“Mickey my man! How the fuck you been?!” Pete yelled, moving from his position to pull Mickey into the awkward hand-shake-to-back-pat people do these days.  
  
Pete disconnected from Mickey and eagerly started to fill two red cups for them with shitty keg beer, roping Mickey into a conversation while handing them their cups, topped with too much fucking foam. Ian stood behind Mickey quietly, sipping his lukewarm beer with slightly raised eyebrows while Mickey laughed at something stupid Pete said.  
  
Pete was the head lifeguard. He was in charge of the lifeguard schedule rotations and made sure everyone was up to date with their required certifications. He also lived near Pistakee Lake all year round, so the parties were always held at his house since it had more room than the cramped cottages the summer employees rented.  
  
Ian hated Pete and if he was being honest with himself the hate was a _little_ unfounded. Ian just thought Pete looked at Mickey a little too closely, dragged his eyes down Mickey’s body a little too heatedly. Ian didn’t like people encroaching on what was his and for those three months here Mickey was fucking _his_. No cocky, attractive, jock asshole was going to take Mickey away from him, not without a fight.  
  
Mickey gulped down the whole cup of beer in one go, eagerly reaching his cup out for Pete to fill it back up. Ian frowned at the whole situation. Obviously he wasn’t opposed to getting shitfaced, but Mickey drove them here and he wasn’t interested in sleeping on the couch or floor this evening. They had plenty of other days to cause irreparable damage to their livers.  
  
Ian moved and slid into the space between Mickey and the keg, not even giving a shit that he just cut Pete off mid-sentence. He backed Mickey up against the nearest wall, one hand firm on his hip, the heat in his eyes burning holes into Mickey’s skin.  
  
“Don’t drink too much,” Ian said as he shoved a knee in between Mickey’s legs.  
  
“Why the fuck not?” Mickey asked, defiant eyebrows raising up his forehead and all.  
  
“I don’t wanna be here too long, got plans for you back at the house,” Ian muttered, his eyes sweeping across Mickey’s face and creeping down to the small portion of his exposed chest.  
  
Mickey laughed, his eyes fucking twinkling as he raised the red cup to his mouth to take a long drag of beer, licking his lips after he swallowed. “Jesus dude, can you turn it off from one goddamn second?”  
  
Ian huffed as he went in to kiss Mickey harshly, sucking on his bottom lip and tasting nothing but cheap beer before pulling away. “You know I can’t, it’s been too fucking long. So...have a few drinks, but not enough to where you can’t drive us home in like two hours,” he moved the hand on Mickey’s hip to his ass, squeezing the perfect fucking globe in his palm and groaning a little to prove a point, “I’ve been craving this ass for months, man.”  
  
Mickey laughed again, but nodded his head as he bit down on his lip. Ian backed away, giving Mickey some space so he could slink away and go interact with some other people. Ian gave him the _I’m watching you_ gesture as he went to go find where Karen was camping out.  
  
Mickey took another sip of his beer, flipping Ian off as he watched him walk away and went back to his conversation with Pete like nothing ever happened.  
  
The party dragged on and Mickey only had two more beers after that conversation and made it a point to stay away from the hard liquor, even though there was a line of shots practically always full on the table. He was just as eager to get Ian back to the cottage and be wrapped up each other for hours, so he would gladly stay semi-sober if it meant he could get Ian to the house that much sooner.  
  
Ian had been trailing after Karen the whole evening, playing beer pong with her and dancing sloppily in the middle of the living room while Mickey spent most of the night in the kitchen. Ian definitely had more to drink than Mickey did, but it’s not like he was the one driving home, so fuck it, right?    
  
About an hour and a half after Ian backed him into the wall, Mickey walked up to Ian and lightly touched his elbow in order to get his attention. Ian whipped around, cheeks flushed and a light glistening of sweat beading up on his face as he smiled brightly.  
  
Mickey just raised his eyebrows and cocked his head towards the door, a small smirk playing across his lips.  
  
Ian huffed out a quick laugh and nodded his head, turning back to Karen and giving her a light kiss on the cheek as he said goodbye.  
  
They left the party unnoticed, slipping through the door without so much as glance cast in their direction.  
  


* * *

  
It felt like they had been fucking for hours, though they couldn’t have been in bed for more than forty minutes. Their muscles were sore and strained already, their throats scratchy and dry, skin sticky and glistening with sweat and lube. It was fucking filthy like that, the slick sounds of their drenched skin moving together shifted through the air.  
  
There was no A/C in the cottages, only that shitty little window fan that did absolutely nothing to help cool the room down, just circulated hot air around the space. The whirring drone of the fan was cancelled out by the sounds of harsh gasps and deep moans resonating from the center of the room.  
  
They had taken the time to explore each other before getting straight down to business, tasting and feeling skin that they haven’t had the opportunity to touch in months; getting reacquainted with the sensitive areas of each others bodies, remembering where to touch one another to have them melting into mush in an instant. Ian had taken his time fingering Mickey open, slipping his fingers in and out of his body torturously slow, watching the sweat drip down Mickey’s face as his lips trembled with unsaid words and muffled moans.  
  
The heat mixed with their actions caused the room to feel like it was ten thousand degrees instead of a balmy ninety-three.  
  
Mickey had his legs wrapped so tight around Ian’s lower back that Ian wouldn’t be able to pull away even if he wanted to, he was just able to thrust deeper and harder into the keening man underneath him. Mickey’s nails were clawing against Ian’s skin, his eyes clenched shut as his mouth hung open, panting. Ian groaned at the sight and dropped his head into Mickey’s neck, huffing warm air across Mickey’s already blazing hot skin as he thrust into him harder, the headboard smacking against the wall every time.  
  
Fuck, Ian missed this. He has yet to meet anyone who made him feel that way that Mickey did, hasn’t met anyone who could light a fire under his skin like Mickey did.  
  
Mickey was trying so hard to keep his legs wrapped around Ian, not wanting to disrupt the perfect fucking rhythm he had going. But their damp skin wouldn’t allow his ankles to stay locked together for too long, slipping and unhooking at the most inconvenient times, causing some thrusts to not hit him as deeply as he wanted.  
  
He grunted in annoyance and unclenched his hands from grasping at Ian’s shoulders. “Stop. Ian stop,” he huffed out, pushing a hand against Ian’s chest.  
  
Ian immediately paused, lifting his head to look down at Mickey, concern laced throughout his features, “Wh-what’s wrong?” he panted out.  
  
Mickey pushed against Ian’s chest some more and wiggled away until Ian slipped out of him with a groan, “this ain’t fucking workin’.”  
  
“What’s not working?” Ian asked, his voice taking on an edge of panic.  
  
“This fucking position, legs keep slipping. Lay back,” Mickey mumbled out.  
  
Ian let out a sigh of relief and did as he was told, laying on his back and making grabby hands at Mickey, impatiently waiting to be inside of him again.  
  
Mickey laughed, licking his lips at the sight of Ian flushed and sweaty lying against the mattress. He swung his leg over over Ian’s hips and lowered himself until his ass was grinding back against Ian’s latex covered cock. He leaned down to lick up a puddle of sweat settling into the dip of Ian’s throat, tasting that overbearing saltiness before he blazed a trail up his neck and started sucking a deep mark into the skin.  
  
Ian groaned and arched his neck back so Mickey could access it easier. He gripped onto the damp skin of Mickey’s hip with one hand and with the other hand he reached down and grabbed his cock at the base, rubbing the tip against Mickey’s ass, stroking up and down before pressing firmly against his hole. Using the advantage of his grip on Mickey’s hip, Ian pushed the other man down until he breached the rim, stretching Mickey out again slowly and blissfully.  
  
Mickey gasped against Ian’s neck and sat up, his hands splaying against Ian’s stomach as he pushed all the way down until Ian was buried deep inside him, his ass brushing against the tops of Ian’s thighs.  
  
“Fuck yeah,” Mickey moaned out, adopting a blistering pace immediately, pulling himself up and down Ian’s cock with an urgency, the muscles in his thighs working over time.  
  
This might be Ian’s favorite position to have the other man. Mickey always rode him fucking hard and good, losing all control and just hungrily fucking himself back on Ian’s cock. The sight was intoxicating, Mickey riding him like that. He looked so fucking sexy with his head thrown back, biting his lip, sweat literally dripping down his chest.  
  
Ian groaned and dug his fingers hard into Mickey’s hip, thrusting up into him to get deeper, closer. “Goddamn, Mickey. God-fucking-damn,” he panted out.  
  
Mickey leaned back, planting his hands right above Ian’s knees, biting down on his smiling lips as he tried to move faster. Ian ran his hand down the slope of Mickey’s damp chest, leaving a visible trail through the streams of sweat as he did so. He tweaked Mickey’s nipple with his thumb and forefinger before continuing down to his cock.  
  
He wrapped his hand loosely around Mickey’s dick, allowing the rise and fall of Mickey’s hips to push him through his slick palm. Mickey sank down completely until Ian was balls deep in his ass and stilled the rise and fall of his hips, instead choosing to just gyrate back and forth, fucking grinding his ass back onto Ian’s cock as his fingers bit into the tense muscles of Ian’s lower thighs.  
  
“Holy shit, fuckfuckfuck,” Mickey huffed, throwing his head back as he moaned up at the ceiling.  
  
Ian curled his fist around Mickey tighter, pulling on him quickly as he thrust up into his more than willing body over and over and over again as Mickey grinded against him. “You look so fuckin’ good, Mick. Take it so good. Missed your ass,” Ian slurred out, his vision blurring from the sweat trickling into his eyes.  
  
And Mickey did look fucking _good_. Fucking leaning back and riding him like that? Using Ian to get himself off? Goddamn, god-fucking-damn.  
  
Mickey groaned, his legs shaking on either side of Ian as he started lifting himself on and off his dick again, carrying on with the same brutal pace as before. He sat up straight, his hands splaying out against Ian’s stomach again; his fingers curling, nails biting into the skin.  
  
Ian planted his feet on the mattress, gaining more leverage to thrust up into Mickey harder. He released Mickey’s cock from his grip and moved both his hands to grab onto Mickey’s ass, gripping the firm muscle tightly. He squeezed and spread his cheeks open more, sliding into his body just a _little_ bit easier. Mickey whined at the loss of Ian’s hand on his cock and at the stretch of his ass simultaneously.  
  
“C'mere,” Ian mumbled, continuously pushing up into Mickey, meeting the other man's downward thrusts with ease.  
  
Mickey had been aggressively chewing on his bottom lip, but he released it when he looked down at Ian with an intensity that made Ian’s blood boil. Mickey moved his right hand from resting against Ian’s stomach and wrapped it around his dick, pulling on himself tightly as he dropped down harder.  
  
“Or what?” Mickey asked, licking his smirking lips, his eyebrows rising up his forehead slowly, “Whatcha gon’ do tough guy? Huh?”  
  
Ian snarled and instantly sat upright, his chest pushing against Mickey’s and his legs stretching back out against the mattress. He looped one arm around Mickey’s waist while the other reached up to pull him in for a harsh kiss, biting at his swollen lips greedily.  
  
Mickey let go of his cock and fisted both hands into Ian’s hair, fucking bouncing on Ian’s dick as he returned the kiss with ferocity, the squeaking of the mattress getting drowned out by Mickey’s moan as Ian brushed against his prostate.  
  
“Shit, right there,” Mickey slurred, his forehead pressed tightly against Ian’s.  
  
Ian moaned, his arm gripping around Mickey tighter to hold him in place, pulling him down as he pushed up continuously into that spot.  
  
“You like that?” he asked in a cocky tone.  
  
Mickey could only groan, nodding his head wildly as he wedged a hand between them to wrap it back around his dick, his orgasm threatening to pulse through him soon. “S’good, Ian. So fuckin’ good. Jesus,” he gasped out before crashing his lips against Ian’s again, messily slipping his tongue into Ian’s mouth.  
  
Ian layed back down on the mattress, pulling Mickey down with him, their mouths still attached. The angle hit Mickey differently, a deep growl rolling around in his throat as he pulled on his dick faster, his knuckles scraping against Ian’s lower stomach.  
  
They were so fucking slicked with sweat that their skin slid together easily, making it hard for Ian to get a good grip on Mickey’s hips. He was grasping onto him so tightly there was bound to be bruises scattered along his sides in the morning. It was fucking filthy, the sheets sticking to his back and legs. But he didn’t care, he didn’t care one bit.  
  
Mickey rose up, grinding himself against Ian some more, pulling on his dick faster, if that was even possible. “I’m-I’m gonna fuckin’ come,” he huffed out, his breathing labored, causing his chest to rise and fall drastically.  
  
Ian planted his feet, thrusting up fucking hard into Mickey four, five, six more times until the brunette dropped his head back, moaning loud as he shot all over Ian’s chest and stomach, his hips stuttering on top of Ian in the process.  
  
Seeing Mickey unravel on top of him like that brought Ian to the edge real quick. He used his position to flip them over until he was settled back in between Mickey’s legs, like how they started this whole damn thing. He sat up on his knees and pulled out, causing Mickey to let out a little whine at the sudden emptiness. Ian ripped the condom off and wrapped his hand around himself, jerking tightly as he shuffled closer until the front of his thighs touched the back of Mickey’s.  
  
“Yeah-fuck yeah, come on. Come on me,” Mickey said, his voice hoarse and lusty as fuck. It drove Ian wild. He threw his head back and pulled on himself faster, desperate to mark Mickey’s skin, to sink into his fucking pores. Mickey ran his fingers up Ian’s thighs teasingly before he grasped onto his balls and started massaging them in the palm of his hand, pulling on them gently.  
  
Ian lost it right at the moment, sucking in air through his teeth as he came all over Mickey’s lower abdomen and part of his dick, some of it dripping down to leak over Mickey’s hole. Ian moaned, his eyes fluttering and threatening to close as he continued to pump himself slowly, making sure he had completely unloaded himself onto Mickey before stopping.  
  
Mickey jerked up and ran his fingers through Ian’s sweat dampened hair before he grabbed onto the back of his head and pulled him back down against him and into a heated kiss; their sticky chests, stomachs and dicks sliding together. It was gross, fucking disgusting actually, slick with sweat and come, their body fluids mingling together into a nasty, sticky cocktail.  
  
They kissed wildly for a few minutes, rubbing their over sensitive cocks together and gasping into each others mouths. Ian pulled back when he couldn’t take anymore, biting Mickey’s lip once before flopping down beside him on the mattress.  
  
They both just lay there staring at the ceiling as the fan cooled their burning skin, goosebumps flaring up when it blew on a particular wet patch. Ian was breathing heavily, fucking exhausted from that session and probably dehydrated. He reached over and dragged one of his knuckles across the skin of Mickey’s arm, unconsciously craving any form of contact with Mickey he could have.  
  
Mickey huffed and yanked his arm away from Ian. “Nuh uh, don’t touch me. Too fuckin’ hot,” he grumbled.  
  
Ian barked out a laugh, his smile cracking across his whole face. “We’re fucking gross,” he noted.  
  
Mickey grunted in acknowledgment as he ran his hands down his damp face. “I need a smoke,” he mumbled out.  
  
“Shower with me first,” Ian demanded, not even framing the sentence as a question.  
  
Mickey glared at Ian and licked his dry lips before asking, “we actually gonna shower or are we gonna _shower_?”  
  
Ian poked his tongue into his cheek and grinned, laughing dismissively. “We’re actually gonna shower, we’re nasty,” he responded before swinging his legs off the bed and walking to the bureau, grabbing two pairs of fresh boxers before closing the drawer with a bang, “might play with your dick a little while we’re in there though.”  
  
Mickey could fucking _hear_ the smirk in Ian’s voice and just shook his head at the fucking audacity. Didn’t stop him from standing up and following Ian into the bathroom twenty seconds later though.  
  
Fuck every other season, summer was the best by far.  
  
  
  
_**ii.  
  
**_  
  
One of the fucked up things about summer is that it tends to fly by much too fast even though the days seem to stretch on forever.  
  
The days lurched by in a haze, the memories so muddled and blended together it was tough to distinguish what happened when. The weeks all dissolved into one giant mass and before you knew it a whole month had already passed and there was nothing to show for it except a sunburn and a hangover.  
  
The middle of July hit Ian like a truck. The realization that there was only one more month left seemed to conjure a countdown clock in his mind; counting down the seconds, minutes, hours, that he had left with Mickey. And sure, he had been meticulously locking away each moment they were together in his memory, but it didn’t mean he wanted the well of material to dry up any time soon.  
  
Today was just a normal day like any other, Ian was camped out on his lifeguard stand trying not to fall asleep from sheer boredom. The sun seemed to be beating down harder than usual, sitting high up in the sky and not holding back any of it’s power on this cloudless day. Ian could feel his skin burning through the outrageous amount of sunscreen he’d slathered on already. Mickey was going to chew him out so bad later, calling him an idiot while he lovingly soothed aloe over his red skin.  
  
He sighed out a heavy breathe through a smile and reached into his bag to pull out his phone. Technically it was against the rules to be on your phone while on duty, lifeguards were simply supposed to just sit there and watch over the lake like a hawk. But Ian was fucking bored and Karen wouldn’t be there for another hour to annoy him so he had to find something to occupy his time.  
  
He scrolled through Instagram, checked Facebook and liked a few statuses. It was times like these that he wished Mickey had social media, so he could obsessively check his page like a freak. He was about to open his emails and delete the large amount of spam mail he always got when he heard a shriek coming from the lake. It wasn’t the normal shriek he usually heard, when kids were playing and roughhousing things tended to get a little loud after all.  
  
No, this was a panicked shriek, a fucking terrified shriek, and Ian dropped his phone down onto the wood with how fast he jolted up from his seat. He saw it immediately, some kid tangled in the rope that linked all the buoys together.  
  
“Shit,” he whispered harshly, throwing his sunglasses off his face and jumping down into the sand, tweaking his ankle somewhat on the landing. He grabbed the small, red rescue tube and sprinted towards the water, kicking up sand as he sprinted across the beach.  
  
“Move, move!” he shouted, making sure people were out of his way, he wouldn’t hesitate to bowl someone over in order to get to this kid.  
  
He dove into the water, pumping his arms and legs as fast as he could in order to reach the edge of the swimming area in time. His heart was fucking racing, it wasn’t often that he had to dive into the lake and save someone and it was always fucking terrifying. It couldn’t have been more than minute from the time he heard the shriek until he got to the boy tangled in the rope, but he wasn’t fucking responding, laying limp face down in the water.  
  
“Fuck, fuck-” Ian whispered as he moved the boy so he was face up, keeping his hand on his shoulder blade to keep him steady as he untangled his ankle from the rope with one hand, yanking and pulling on the fibers as hard as he could. The rope slipped off quickly and Ian immediately manhandled the kid until the rescue tube was resting underneath his armpits, keeping him afloat as Ian worked on getting them to shore. He got them back on land quickly, pulling the lifeless boy completely out of the water and hovering over him, leaning down to place his ear by his mouth to hear if he was breathing.  
  
He wasn’t.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispered again. His hands were shaking so badly and by now he had garnered an audience, everyone standing around with their hands covering their mouths and whispering to each other. Where the fuck were this kids parents?  
  
Ian placed his right hand over his left, locking his fingers together and placing the newly formed fist on the center of the kids chest. He kept his elbows locked into place, his arms straight as an arrow, as he started pushing on the boys chest in quick bursts, counting to himself under his breathe.  
  
One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten, all the way up to thirty, putting enough weight into his thrusts to break a rib or two. Compressions stopped and he tilted the kids head back to open up his airway, pinched his nose and pulled down on his chin to open up his mouth. He covered the kids mouth with his own, blowing two deep breathes into his lungs, making sure his chest expanded with each one.  
  
Ian kept going, desperately trying to get this little shit to start breathing. Back to compressions, count to thirty, two deep breaths, compressions, breaths, compressions, breaths, over and over and over, not willing to give up any time soon.  
  
He was halfway through a set of compressions when the kid jerked, spitting up a lungful of water and coughing hysterically. Ian nearly cried he was so fucking relieved.  
  
“Are you alright?” Ian asked after the kid calmed down, his eyes fluttering open.  
  
“Wh-what happened?” he croaked out, his voice hoarse from the water spewing from his throat.  
  
“You got caught in the rope, you’re okay now, just take it easy. What’s your name?” Ian asked, gently getting the kid to sit up, rubbing his back soothingly as he did so, big brother instincts kicking in.  
  
“Dustin,” the boy mumbled, rubbing his eye with his fist and wincing at the twinge in the center of his chest.  
  
“Okay, Dustin. Do you know where your parents are?” Ian asked.  
  
Before Dustin could even get enough breath in his lungs to answer the question, Ian heard a woman’s panicked shriek and the boys name being yelled loudly. He looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun to see a middle aged woman throwing her basket of fries into the air and running over towards the two of them.  
  
She landed on the sand with a huff, grabbing her son’s face in her hands roughly. “What happened?” she yelled.  
  
“Ma’am, please, take it easy,” Ian reached up to unlatch her fingers from Dustin’s face, she was grabbing onto him so tightly it was kind of terrifying, “he got tangled in the rope and stopped breathing for a minute. He’s fine, but you might want to bring him to a doctor to make sure there’s no damage,” Ian said.  
  
Dustin already had a bruise forming on his chest from Ian’s deep compressions. Yeah, he definitely broke one of his ribs. Worth it.  
  
His heart was still beating so fast, his hands still shaking, his mind running away from him. If only he wasn’t on his fucking phone and was paying attention he could have caught this way sooner. He would have noticed Dustin flailing around and thrashing in the water immediately. He could have reached him before he inhaled a disgusting amount of lake water into his lungs. He could have untangled him before he passed out. This whole thing could have been avoided if he wasn’t such a fucking idiot.  
  
What if Dustin didn’t start breathing again? What if that kid died right there in the sand, Ian doing compressions and breaths until someone had to physically pull him away? Because one thing is for fucking sure he wouldn’t have given up until his arms gave out and Dustin started turning cold.  
  
He shuddered at the thought.  
  
Dustin’s mom was hugging him to her chest, rocking him back and forth as she rubbed his hair. “Thank you, thank you so much,” she whispered, tears leaking down her face.  
  
Ian nodded, speechless. He sat there in the sand for a few more minutes, making sure that Dustin was fully okay and helping him stand up, his arms wrapped firmly around his mother’s waist.  
  
“Thank you,” his mom whispered again before walking over to their towels and cooler, packing everything up and hopefully bringing the kid to urgent care.  
  
Ian sighed and scrubbed his hands down his face before he walked back over to the lifeguard stand, ignoring the small group of people that still lingered. He climbed back onto the stand, picking up his phone again and hitting a familiar number.  
  
It rang a few times, the shrill noise loud in his ear. “‘Ello,” the voice mumbled.  
  
“Hey Pete, it’s Ian…”  
  


* * *

  
The fire was raging on the beach that night, wood pallets stacked up so high that the fire wouldn’t burn out until the sun came up. Everyone was already pretty plastered, dancing around the flames like witches, singing songs and laughing loudly, someone playing fucking Wonderwall terribly on the guitar.  
  
Bonfires happened quite frequently, but Ian didn’t like to go to many of them. Large flames made his skin itch and his heart palpitate. Fire was uncontrollable, unpredictable, and when everyone who was supposed to be tending said fire was fucked up things could get ugly, fast. But he needed to relax tonight. After he got off the phone with Pete earlier he waited for Karen to show up and he left without a word, positive that the whole ordeal had spread through the small circle of people already. He needed something to distract him from what happened, but he doubted anything this evening would be able to stop the whole thing from playing on a loop in his head.  
  
Besides, Mickey fucking loved coming to these bonfires and if Mickey was here, Ian wasn’t too far behind.  
  
He sat on a log someone dragged over from the woods, staring into the flames until his eyes hurt, holding the lukewarm beer in his hand, basically forgetting about the flat drink completely. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to this afternoon no matter how hard he tried, berating himself for how stupid he was, how fucking unprofessional he had been sitting on his phone. _He could have died, he could have died_ played like a song in his head, the worst kind of song to have on repeat.  
  
He felt someone sit down next to him and he didn’t need to tear his eyes away from the flames to know it was Mickey, his scent and warmth were instantly recognizable. Mickey didn’t say anything, just casually brushed his arm against Ian’s and sipped his beer, giving Ian time to open up if he wanted too.  
  
They sat there silently for five minutes, the comfort of Mickey’s presence quieting his mind somewhat. He turned his head from the fire and looked at Mickey’s delicately smiling face, the orange glow of the flames making him look even more gorgeous.  
  
“I assume you’ve heard?” Ian asked softly.  
  
Mickey nodded, licking his bottom lip before taking another sip of his beer. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”  
  
It was Ian’s turn to nod. He reached out and grabbed onto Mickey’s thigh, squeezing it tightly to ground himself. “Not here though,” he whispered.  
  
Mickey linked his fingers through Ian’s and stood up immediately, pulling Ian up with him. Ian dropped his beer can into the sand just as Mickey gulped down the rest of his and threw the aluminum into the flames.    
  
They walked hand and hand to a more secluded part of the beach, the loud laughter and singing could still be heard in the distance but the light from the flames didn’t reach this far. They sat down on the sand, Ian sitting as close to Mickey as possible with his legs tucked underneath him. Mickey did the same, one hand reaching over to rub up and down Ian’s back soothingly, not pushing him into talking until he was ready.  
  
Ian looked out onto the lake and went to begin speaking but stopped, like he himself was the one who just inhaled a lungful of water. He sighed heavily, scrubbing his hands down his face for the thousandth time that day. “I can’t stop fucking thinking about it,” he mumbled out  
  
“Hey, the kids fine right? He fucking breathin’?” Mickey asked, still rubbing his hand up and down Ian’s back.  
  
Ian nodded, looking despondently down at the sand. “Then what’s the problem?” Mickey asked, “you did your job, you went in there and saved the little fat fuck, so why you beating yourself up about it?”  
  
Ian threw his hands out in front of him, exasperated that he was the only one who was seeing the issue here. “Because!” he yelled, “because it was almost too late! It took him so long to start breathing again I thought he was fucking dead. Probably broke one of his damn ribs doing compressions,” he stopped and took a deep breath before he lowered his voice to say the next part, “it was fucking scary, Mick. He could’ve died right in front of me. That woulda been on _me_ , his death woulda been on my fucking hands. I-I wouldn’t have been able to handle that.”  
  
Mickey’s hand stopped rubbing up and down and instead moved up to Ian’s neck and squeezed, shaking him back and forth for a second before turning Ian’s head so he was looking straight into Mickey’s eyes.  
  
“You did your fucking best and you succeeded, okay? Don’t focus on what _could_ have happened, what _did_ happen was you saved that fucking kid’s life. Because of you he’ll live to fucking...go to college or some shit. Knock up some chick at a party and live the rest of his life as a miserable old man,” Mickey finished with a smile.  
  
The last line caused Ian to chuckle, a small smile ghosting across his lips. He nodded his head, reaching over into Mickey’s lap to grab his other hand, linking their fingers together tightly.  
  
Mickey squeezed Ian’s hand and pulled him in for a delicate kiss. Ian sighed against Mickey’s lips, closing his eyes and returning the tender kiss.  
  
After a few moments, Mickey pulled back, looking out over the lake as Ian rested his head against his shoulder, their hands still entwined in Mickey’s lap. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, staring out onto the lake silently.  
  
It was a full moon that night, the giant rock sitting high up in the sky and casting it’s light down on them. The stars were sparkling, their light waxing and waning like the tide. One of the many reasons Ian loved it up here was how clearly he could see the sky and all the stars, he never got to see this many in Chicago, the bright city lights eclipsing their beauty every night.  
  
Ian could feel that bleakness that was surrounding him all afternoon start to slip away, a warmth blossoming in his chest. Mickey always did know the right things to do and say, easily comforting him when disaster struck, able to pull his head out of the clouds and back down to Earth. Always the fucking rational one.  
  
Soon, Mickey jiggled his shoulder up and down to get Ian’s attention. Ian lifted his head with a groan, glaring at Mickey as he did so.  
  
Mickey laughed, “wipe that look off ya face. I’ll be right back, stay here,” he said right before he shot up in a flash, leaving Ian unbalanced without his sudden support.  
  
“Mickey! What the fuck? Where are you going?” Ian yelled at Mickey’s retreating form, but he was answered with nothing but silence.  
  
Ian huffed and wrapped his arms around his legs, leaning his chin on the tops of his knees as he stared out onto to the lake. He found himself getting lost in the rhythmic way the small waves lapped up against the shore continuously, getting hypnotized by the constant ebb and flow. Time slipped away from him, he wasn’t sure how long he sat there alone waiting for Mickey to come back.  
  
It probably wasn’t more than five minutes before Mickey was standing by his side again. He reached down and ruffled up Ian’s hair as he huffed out a small laugh. “Get up,” he heard Mickey say.  
  
Ian looked up to see Mickey hovering over him with a six pack of beer wedged underneath his arm. He laughed, standing from the ground and wiping any sand off of his ass with his hands. “Where the fuck did you get that?” he asked, gazing down at the six pack.  
  
“Stole it from Pete. Let’s go,” Mickey reached down and linked his fingers through Ian’s, pulling him in the direction of the woods.  
  
Ian stumbled over his feet, but easily regained his footing and followed closely behind. When they got to the edge of the woods Mickey shoved the six pack into Ian’s hands and dug his phone out of his back pocket, turning on the flashlight before he linked his fingers with Ian’s again and pulled him through the thin line of twigs and leaves and deeper into the woods.  
  
Ian rolled his eyes, already knowing where Mickey was taking him. But he kept his mouth shut and just squeezed his hand a little tighter.  
  
Mickey pulled Ian through the woods, like they both didn’t know the path to the dock with their eyes closed. The bright light radiating from the moon couldn’t pierce through the thick canopy of trees so their only guiding light was the dull light emanating from Mickey’s phone, only illuminating their path somewhat so they wouldn’t trip over fallen branches.  
  
They made it to the dock quickly and Mickey untangled his fingers from Ian’s and walked ahead of him. When he got to the end of the dock he took his shoes and socks off before sitting down and dangling his feet off the end of the dock.  
  
Ian stood back and watched for a moment before following. The moon was so bright that it nearly illuminated the entire lake, the water shimmering like millions of diamonds were hidden beneath the surface. Mickey was perfectly silhouetted against the backdrop and if Ian was an artist he would paint this picture in a heartbeat.  
  
He stepped onto the dock, that familiar creaking of the wood meeting his ears. He followed Mickey down to the end and imitated his actions, pulling off his shoes and socks before sitting as close to Mickey as he could, desperate to soak up the comfort that wafted off the other man like heat waves. He pulled two cans of beer off the plastic ring, cracking Mickey’s open before handing it over and placing the rest behind them on the dock.  
  
Mickey grinned and took the offered can without protest, taking a long gulp out of it immediately. From this close he could see Mickey’s face decorated with the reflections of the moon light off the lake, that silvery shine dancing across his face like it knew Mickey was something to be touched and admired.  
  
Mickey turned to Ian, his eyes seemingly shining brighter in the moonlight, and just grinned at him, taking another sip of his beer.  
  
Ian grinned back, taking a sip of his beer as well. He looked back over the lake, getting lost in his own head for a few minutes. He was trying real hard not to relive the events of this afternoon but for some reason he just couldn’t shake the memory. He had gone over it so many times that the facts started to twist themselves around and it ended up playing out in a macabre fashion, the kid dying on the beach with blue tinted lips and Ian’s death on his hands.  
  
He felt a pressure on his thigh, pulling him out of his thoughts and back to dock. Mickey squeezed his leg before saying, “stop fuckin’ thinking about it. You’re gonna drive yourself nuts.”  
  
Ian sighed, gulping down the rest of his beer and reaching back for another one, desperate to turn his mind off.  
  
“I’m trying, I really am. But it’s fucking with me. If only I was paying attention more and wasn’t so fucking stupid this wouldn’t have happened,” Ian whispered.  
  
Mickey scoffed, kicking up some water with his foot in frustration, “Yes it fuckin’ woulda happened. Kid was an idiot. His fuckin’ mother shoulda been watching him, that’s what should have happened. Listen to me, and actually fucking listen. It was not your fault,” Mickey made sure each word was enunciated, driving the point into Ian’s head as much as he could, “you did your job, you saved the kid, end of story. You’re a fucking hero.”  
  
Ian didn’t feel like a hero, but Mickey had a point. He _did_ save the kid, his mother _should_ have been watching him, and eventually he would learn that this wasn’t his fault. But for now, he would continue to play the blame game.  
  
He sighed and placed his own hand over the one Mickey had on his leg, squeezing it quickly. “Yeah, okay, I heard you,” Ian said with a small smile.  
  
“Hey,” Mickey said softly. Ian turned from staring at the lake and locked eyes with Mickey, his eyes sparkling like the moon itself placed some dust in there. Mickey’s face looked so open, so goddamn sincere and sweet that Ian found himself drowning in his presence once again.  
  
Mickey grabbed onto the back of Ian’s neck, rubbing softly, “you’re fucking amazing and so brave, don’t let anyone tell you different, a’ight?” Mickey asked softly.  
  
Ian snorted but nodded his head anyway, biting down on his bottom lip as he did so. Mickey grinned and pulled Ian forward, slotting their lips together gently. Mickey tasted like beer and cigarettes, a disgusting combination to some, but it was probably the sweetest thing that Ian had ever tasted.  
  
Ian dropped his jaw open tentatively, giving Mickey permission to push inside with his tongue but leaving the decision up to him. He felt the corners of Mickey’s lip twitch up into a smirk seconds before he pushed his tongue into Ian’s mouth, easily lacing together. Ian moaned and pushed harder against Mickey, moving his lips and tongue a little faster.  
  
“C’mere,” Mickey mumbled against his lips a few minutes later. He stood up and pulled on Ian’s forearm to encourage him to do the same. Ian eagerly followed, standing up with Mickey on the end of the dock. Mickey pulled his own tank top over his head before reaching for the hem of Ian’s shirt and yanking it over his head as well.  
  
He threw Ian’s shirt down on the dock and pulled him in for another kiss, deep and desperate. Mickey’s hands felt like hot coals skimming along Ian’s body, starting at his hips, burning up his ribs and simmering all over his back, smoldering across every inch of skin.  
  
Ian groaned and pushed into the kiss more. The thing about kissing Mickey was... _fuck_ , Mickey kissed with his whole fucking body, not just his mouth. Ian didn’t know it was possible to kiss like Mickey did. It was so damn passionate and intense every single time, like there was a fire burning in Mickey’s body and the only way to get it out was through kissing.  
  
Ian had a theory that Mickey could probably make him come just from kissing, but he always got too riled up to test it out.  
  
Mickey popped the button on Ian’s shorts, dragging the zipper down teasingly slow as he pulled away from the kiss, biting down on Ian’s bottom lip and pulling it back with him. Ian groaned, loving the implications of where this night was headed. Mickey yanked Ian’s shorts and boxers all the way down, leaving them to pool around his ankles as he wrapped his burning hot hand around Ian’s cock, pulling on him a few times. Ian moaned lowly, his eyes slipping closed at the feel of Mickey’s calloused hand wrapped around him. He heard Mickey huff out a breathy laugh, but he didn’t even care, he just licked his lips and tried to get lost in the moment.  
  
Mickey pulled on him a few more times until he disappeared completely, Ian shivering at the sudden loss of warmth against his chest. He didn’t open his eyes until he heard a loud splash and felt a few droplets of water land on his skin.  
  
“Mickey, what the fuck?” Ian yelled for the second time that evening, turning towards the end of the dock to see his _kinda-boyfriend_ grinning from ear to ear, his arms and legs pedaling to keep him afloat, his dark hair matted down to his forehead.  
  
“Get in, the water is fucking amazing!” Mickey yelled, dipping underneath the surface and swimming back towards the dock. He popped out of the water, crossing his arms and laying them across the wood as he stared up at Ian with playful eyes.  
  
“Come on man…” Ian started, rubbing the back of his head, ruffling up the red strands.  
  
Mickey laughed and pushed away from the dock again, swimming on his back a little further out into the lake. He kicked his foot up, splashing Ian with a wave of water, a cocky smirk spread across his face.  
  
“Oh you little fucker,” Ian said through a laugh, immediately diving into the water and swimming over to Mickey. Once he got close enough to the other man he grabbed onto his ankle, pulling Mickey under the water with him, air bubbles floating up the surface as Mickey laughed.  
  
They wrestled in the water for awhile, taking turns dunking the other person and splashing water in each others faces. Their laughs were loud and boisterous, but didn’t carry further than the line of trees, the woods swallowing up their sounds with greed. By the time they were done rough housing they had been pushed closer to the shore, easily able to stand up while the gentle waves lapped against their chests.  
  
Mickey huffed out a quiet laugh, moving closer to Ian and pulling a piece of stray bark that somehow embedded itself into his sopping wet hair. Ian nodded gratefully and pulled Mickey in closer to him, standing chest to chest.  
  
He held onto Mickey silently for a few moments, his arm wrapped around his waist and his hand resting hot on the small of Mickey’s back even though their skin was cold. He smiled softly, staring into those goddamn eyes he loved so much, bright and shimmering with reflections of the moon, his pale skin basically glowing in the dull white light. A shiver raced down his spine and it had nothing to do with the slightly chilly water.  
  
Mickey’s eyes flicked down to Ian’s lips as he pulled his own bottom lip into his mouth, grinding his teeth against the flesh. Ian snapped at that moment, moving down to press his lips against Mickey’s, this time tasting the tangy freshness of the lake water instead of beer, but still tasting that lingering taste of just _Mickey._  
  
Mickey hummed against Ian’s lips and linked his arms around his neck as he moved his legs to frame them around Ian’s hips, crossing his ankles behind his back. Ian was easily able to hold all of his weight thanks to the water helping keep Mickey afloat. He moaned and pushed his tongue into Mickey’s mouth as he grabbed onto his ass, squeezing the muscle firmly and pulling Mickey impossibly closer to his chest.  
  
They stayed there until their skin was covered in goosebumps and their muscles were quivering involuntarily. They stayed there pressed together in the water under the full moon until their lips started turning blue and their teeth clacked together, entirely secluded from the rest of the world.  
  
Just the two of them. Alone. Together.  
  
  
**  
**_**iii.** _  
  
  
  
If Ian thought June changed into July in the blink of an eye it was nothing compared to how fast the end of August rolled in. It took everyone by surprise when the sun started setting just a little bit earlier and the nights now carried the tiniest chill to them.  
  
Ian woke up on that last day the same way he has woken up the entire summer, in bed with Mickey. His eyes cracked open slowly as he stretched his arms above his head and made some really disturbing noises as his muscles stretched and his joints cracked. He rubbed his eyes with balled up fists, trying to adjust to the dull summer light peeking in through the blinds. He turned his head to look over at Mickey, smiling a little at the sight of him. Mickey was laying down on his stomach, the white sheet tragically covering his ass, his black hair unruly and sticking up everywhere, his mouth parted slightly to take in some tiny breaths and his dark eyelashes fanning across his pale skin, some light freckles popping up on his cheeks from the constant sun exposure.  
  
Ian scanned his eyes up and down Mickey’s body a few times, sighing in contentment. This would be the one of the last times Ian got to wake up to this fucking beautiful sight next to him and he wanted to drink it in for as long as he could, taking the time to really memorize the dips and curves to Mickey’s defined back muscles, imprinting in his mind how fucking soft he looked while he was dreaming.  
  
He wished he could close his eyes and fall back asleep, manhandle Mickey until he was pressed tightly against Ian’s chest as they both slept way into the afternoon, curled together in that small, stuffy room. But the last day at the lake always meant a ton of chores had to be done, which mostly just included packing and cleaning the whole cottage from top to bottom. He looked back over at Mickey and reached his hand out to caress his head, his thumb rubbing back and forth over his temple.  
  
Mickey mumbled something in his sleep, his lips moving minutely as he no doubt complained about being interuppted. He flipped over, facing away from Ian, and pulled the sheet further up his chest.  
  
Ian huffed a small laugh and got out of bed, trying his best not to bounce the mattress too much so he wouldn’t disturb the grumpy, apparently still sleeping, man next to him. He pulled on a shirt and walked into the living room, closing the door shut quietly behind him.  
  
No one else was awake yet, the cottage still stuck in the eerie early morning quiet that tended to freak Ian out, not used to waking up to silence back home. He padded into the kitchen, starting the first pot of coffee for the day. Whoever woke up first was in charge of making the coffee, it was a rule and if you didn’t abide by it you were stuck on bathroom cleaning duty for two weeks.  
  
Ian yawned again as he placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward, his body not yet willing to keep him propped up for a prolonged period of time. The percolating of the coffee machine was the only sound to be heard in the house, the black liquid steaming up and filling the coffee pot quickly. Ian leaned back up, pulling one of the mugs from the cupboard and pouring himself a cup as quickly as possible, replacing the pot before a lot of coffee could land on the hot plate. He dumped some sugar and a lot of milk into the mug before he walked towards the back door, unlocking the latch and opening the heavy wood with minimal effort.  
  
A small chill blew through the screen, causing Ian to shiver a little. It wasn’t that cold at all, but after months of suffering through the unbearable summer heat anything less felt like an ice age had hit. He turned around and spotted a thin blanket draped on the back of the couch. Placing his cup on the counter, he walked into the living room and grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around himself like a cape before grabbing his cup again and walking out onto the small patio attached to the cottage.  
  
The wood was cold and moist, Ian shivering again as his bare feet shuffled across the deck on his journey over to the corner with the best view of the lake. It wasn’t the most picturesque view by any stretch of the imagination, mostly just trees and the shrubbery blocked any decent view of the lake. But over in this corner you could see glimpses of the water glistening through the trees, a small layer of fog dancing on the top of the surface. It was good a view as any.  
  
He stood there for a while, just staring at what little of the sunrise he could see coming up over the lake and drinking his coffee, getting lost in the feeling of seclusion. It was so fucking quiet out here, it was a little unnerving at first. But now he soaked it all in, reveled in the silence and peacefulness of it all. It gave him an opportunity to just tune everything out and fucking relax for once. Everything out here smelled so fresh and alive, the aroma of pine and tree sap constantly assaulting his nostrils with each deep breathe. It was a drastic change from the stench of the South Side and candles would never come close to replicating the earthy smell of the woods up here.  
  
He wasn’t sure how long he was standing there, but soon the _thwack_ of the screen door closing drew his attention. Ian turned around, smiling at the sight of Mickey with his grey sweatpants resting low on his hips, shirtless, one hand holding a lighter and trying to light the cigarette hanging from lips while the other was holding onto his steaming cup of coffee.  
  
“Good morning,” Ian said through a smile.  
  
Mickey just grunted and took a hit off his cigarette, walking closer to stand next to Ian. “Fuckin’ cold this morning,” Mickey whined, blowing smoke through his nose as he did so.  
  
Ian chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that,” he gazed down at Mickey’s erect nipples, then back up to his face, a smirk plastered across his lips.  
  
“Fuck off,” Mickey grumbled around his cigarette, leaving it to rest between his lips again as he rubbed his chest with the palm of his hand.  
  
Ian just grinned and brought the coffee cup up to his lips, drinking in the warm liquid as Mickey scowled next to him. They stood there in silence for awhile, sipping their coffees and watching the fog slowly dissipate from the lake. Mickey reached over to Ian when he was halfway done with his cigarette, offering up the half smoked butt for Ian to kill if he wanted too. He accepted, inhaling from the filter and loving the feeling of his lungs expanding with smoke.  
  
Ian finished the butt relatively quickly, grinding it out onto the wood railing before flicking it into the woods. He gulped down the rest of his coffee, eager to finish it since it was turning lukewarm instead of burning hot and no one likes cold coffee, unless it was supposed to be cold in the first place. He glanced over at Mickey just in time to see the other man shiver and his skin prickle with goosebumps.  
  
He placed his now empty mug on the railing and moved to stand behind Mickey. He extended his arms, making the blanket look like fucking batwings, before he wrapped his arms around Mickey, dragging him closer to his chest and wrapping him up in the blanket as best as he could.  
  
Mickey just laughed softly, but snuggled back into Ian’s embrace anyway. Ian dipped his head to kiss along the curve of Mickey’s neck briefly before resting his chin against Mickey’s shoulder, staring out into the woods.  
  
“What are your plans for the day?” Ian asked.  
  
Mickey took a large gulp of his still steaming coffee before reaching out and placing it onto the railing as well. He grabbed the edges of the blanket that didn’t fully wrap around his body and brought them closer together, firmly entrapping them both in the cotton cocoon.  
  
“Gonna finish deep cleaning the shack. Gotta empty the fryers, clean ‘em both and then fuckin’ defrost the freezer. I did most of it yesterday so it shouldn’t take me too long,” he shivered again, his body getting acclimated to the warmth that was now draping over him. “What about you?”  
  
Ian shrugged as best as he could given the circumstances. “Cleaning my room before my last shift at the lake. Hopefully it goes by fast, I’m trying to hang out with you as long as possible today,” he whispered the last part, pressing a quick kiss to the skin of Mickey’s shoulder.  
  
“Corny,” Mickey snorted.  
  
Ian stood upright, nuzzling his face into the back of Mickey’s head, the black hairs tickling his neck a little bit. He took a small breath, inhaling the smell of Mickey like a weirdo and hoping the other man wouldn’t say anything. He wasn’t so lucky.  
  
“Did you just fucking smell me?” Mickey asked, incredulous.  
  
Ian laughed, moving down to kiss the nape of Mickey’s neck, trailing over to the side of his neck and sucking on the skin a little bit. “I might have smelled you,” he mumbled, grinning against Mickey’s skin.  
  
Mickey pinched the skin of Ian’s arm that was still wrapped around his waist. “Freak,” he said affectionately. Ian squeezed his arms a little tighter around Mickey’s waist and pulled him closer to his chest as he started peppering his neck with featherlight kisses. Mickey sighed and rolled his head to the side, allowing Ian all the room he wanted.  
  
They were interrupted shortly, the screen door smacking closed shattering their peaceful and tender moment. “Break it up, you homo’s,” Karen said, the sound of a flicking lighter following her words. Ian groaned against Mickey’s neck, placing one more big, fat kiss against his neck before pulling away.  
  
“You’re a bitch,” Ian said, turning to look at her briefly, pulling the blanket around himself again.  
  
Karen shrugged, pulling out one of the chairs to sit at the table, propping her feet up on the glass. “Tell me something I don’t fucking know,” she said, breathing out a cloud of smoke.  
  
Ian turned back to Mickey. “Are you picking me up later to go to Pete’s?” he asked.  
  
Mickey nodded before he reached up to grab onto the back of Ian’s head, bringing him in for a real kiss, the lingering taste of coffee and cigarettes still on Mickey’s lips.  
  
He pulled back and rested his forehead against Ian’s. “I’m gonna head out. I’ll be here around four to get you,” he mumbled, pecking Ian on the lips once more for good measure.  
  
Mickey walked back into the cabin, the screen door slamming shut behind him again. Ian wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, his body feeling even colder now without Mickey pressed up against him. He sat down at the table with Karen to shoot the shit for a few minutes, not really talking about anything in particular. They fell into an amicable silence, listening to the early morning birds sing their songs and try to appreciate the peacefulness of nature for as long as possible.  
  
“You gonna miss him?” she asked, flicking the built up ash of her cigarette, Ian watching hypnotized as they floated down to land onto the deck.  
  
He snorted sardonically. “You have no fucking idea how much,” he whispered.  
  


* * *

  
Mickey kept true to his word and picked Ian up at four. They drove to Pete’s in relative silence, Mickey resting his hand on Ian’s knee the entire ride, his thumb rubbing patterns into his skin.  
  
Ian wasn’t ready, he wasn’t prepared for the summer to be over yet. He had no idea what he was going to do when he went back home. It’s not like he was going to college like everyone else and he hadn’t even lined up a job to come home to. He was fucked, in other words. Fiona would be on his ass within a week of being back about him finding a job, knowing he had to pull his weight before winter hit. He wasn’t sure if his family would survive another winter like last year; the gas was basically shut off the whole season, all of them huddling under blankets for warmth and sleeping with their jackets on.  
  
But what he really wasn’t ready for was leaving Mickey again. It always fucking hurt, like chunks of himself were getting ripped off by a rabid dog. They always kept their goodbyes short and sweet, not needing to drag them out. Mickey would come home with him after the party, they would curl up together in bed and have slow, drunken sex until the sun came up and they had to part ways. It’s what they always have done and it’s worked out well so far.  
  
When they got to the party it was already louder than usual, for some reason the Farewell Party always seemed more chaotic. It was one last hurrah, one last opportunity to get wasted with your friends while dancing along to shitty music and drinking even shittier beer. Ian didn’t leave Mickey’s side the entire evening, desperate to have contact with him for as long as possible, trailing after him like a lost puppy. He even endured a painfully boring conversation between Mickey and Pete, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with every goddamn word that fell out of Pete’s mouth.  
  
But the beer was free, the company was nice and Ian was trying to enjoy every last second of his last night here.  
  
Halfway through the party, Pete stood up on the table, wobbling a little and grabbing onto the top of someone’s head for balance. “Alright, alright, cut the fucking music,” he yelled, waving his arms dramatically and spilling some beer out of his cup and onto the carpet. The music was paused and soon the whole party was facing Pete with curious eyes.  
  
Once everyone had settled down, Pete raised his cup in the air and waited until he had garnered all the attention in the room. This was something he did at the end of every summer, he gave a short speech that formally said goodbye to everyone that wouldn’t be returning next year, wishing them luck in all their future endeavors and what not. Ian sat silently in the corner with Mickey, rolling his eyes at the theatrics and smiling into his cup. Mickey didn’t look too amused, if anything he looked nervous, chewing on his bottom lip with ferocity. Ian made a mental note to ask him about it later.  
  
“The time has come, my friends. Time to say farewell to the few who have graced us with their last summer appearance here at Pistakee. Some of these people we’ve gotten to know very well over the past few months, hell some of you have been here for years, and this is always a shitty part of the going away party,” he took a sip of his beer, burping loudly before he continued, “but an important part nonetheless!  
  
“First we have Alex fucking Williams, the legend that shocked you all with his ability to leap over the flames at one of the bonfires. He might have burned all the hair off of his legs but he succeeded without burning himself too badly! That crazy fucker got accepted to Oxford University, motherfucking _Oxford_! Have fun in England ya freak, make sure to regal all those pretentious pricks with your amazing fire jumping skills,” he raised his plastic cup in the air, “to Alex! Here, here!” Pete yelled.  
  
Everyone raised their cups, a chorus of _here,here_ rising up through the crowd, Alex waving shyly.  
  
“Next up we have Karen fucking Jackson. I gave you a huge speech last year, so you’re not gonna get anything special said about you, gonna recycle the same old shit. We were lucky enough to have you as some amazing eye candy up on that lifeguard tower,”  
  
“Fuck you!” Karen shouted, waving her middle finger at Pete but laughing regardless.  
  
“We’re gonna miss your bodacious bod and badass attitude, but good luck becoming a fucking brain surgeon or whatever,” Pete slurred.  
  
“Psychologist!” Karen yelled.  
  
Pete waved his hand in the air, “Whatever the fuck you’re gonna be. Love you girl. Here, here!”    
  
“Here, here!”  
  
Pete took another gulp of his beer, finishing off the drink and crushing the red cup in his hand. “And last but not least, our best fry cook and sarcastic asshole extraordinaire, Mickey fucking Milkovich,”  
  
Ian whipped his head to the side to stare at Mickey with wide eyes, his mouth dropping open. No, no. There’s no way that’s correct. Pete must have gotten the wrong information. Mickey would have told him, he wouldn’t have waited until the last fucking night to say something. Pete’s wrong, he _has_ to be. But Mickey wouldn’t look Ian in the eye, instead he kept his eyes glued to the floor, like suddenly his shoes were the most intriguing thing in the room.  
  
“Bro, it’s been great getting to know you and I’m so happy you got that full time job at the auto body shop, after what you did to that Mustang you fucking deserve it. It’s gonna be hard replacing you man, don’t think anyone can crisp those fries like you do. Congratulations on getting your dream job, I wish you all the best. Here, here!”  
  
“Here, here!”  
  
“Now, let’s get back to partying!” Pete yelled, hopping down off the table with a flourish, the music starting back up and booming through the small house.  
  
Ian moved until he was in front of Mickey, demanding all of his attention. It felt like he couldn’t breathe, his throat closing up and a dull ache settling into the center of his chest.  
  
“Is it true?” he whispered, so softly it was like he hadn’t even said anything at all, not sure if Mickey could even hear him over the loud music.  
  
Mickey looked up from the floor, still chewing on his bottom lip as he locked eyes with Ian. “Yeah,” he responded. Ian didn’t even hear anything else, Mickey’s lips were moving but none of the words reached his ears. His hearing shorted out, everything around him nothing but white noise and vibrations.  
  
His grip around his cup slackened, dropping the plastic to the ground with a splash, not even giving a fuck if he stained the carpet. Mickey reached out, grabbing onto Ian’s forearm lightly.  
  
Ian recoiled as if he had been burned, yanking his arm out of Mickey’s grip harshly. Mickey’s touch felt hot and not the way it usually did, the way Ian enjoyed. It fucking hurt. He backed away from Mickey slowly, knocking some people around in his carelessness. But he didn’t care, he needed to get out of here right the fuck now. He was suffocating.  
  
Ian turned and basically sprinted towards the door, pulling the heavy wood open hard enough to almost pull it off his hinges. He was vaguely aware of Mickey yelling his name, sounding almost frantic. As soon as the crisp summer air hit Ian’s face he was off and running, his feet pounding against the pavement. He needed to get away from here and he needed to do it fast. He knew where he needed to go, knew where his feet were unconsciously taking him as his muscles ached and his lungs burned from the speed of his sprint. His body knew the way to the path on it’s own, muscle memory.  
  
He should have known he wouldn’t get too far before Mickey rolled up, the Mustang’s engine loud and seemingly shaking the concrete as he got closer and closer to Ian. Ian slowed the pace of his running, dialing it down to a brisk walk, his lungs requiring a few moments to regain some oxygen, his chest was heaving up and down.  
  
“Get in the car, I gotta talk to you,” Mickey yelled. Ian just responded with his middle finger raised in Mickey’s direction.  
  
“Get in the fucking car, Gallagher!” Mickey shouted again, his fist slamming against the steering wheel.  
  
“Fuck you, Mickey! You don’t get to tell me what to do you goddamn fucking asshole,” Ian yelled, tears pooling in his eyes dangerously. He kept walking, his arms folded in front of his chest defensively. He was almost there, almost to the small path that would lead him directly to the dock, he just had to walk a couple more yards and he would be there.  
  
“Ian come on, I’m sorry, let me explain. Please,” Mickey sounded almost desperate, the wavering of his voice almost drowned out by the roar of the engine. But Ian was nothing if not stubborn, he just shook his head and walked a little faster, dipping into the woods once the opening to the path was clear.  
  
He heard the screech of tires before the engine cut out and a door slammed, Mickey no doubt about to follow Ian blindly into the woods.  
  
“Jesus Ian, will you fuckin’ stop and talk to me!” Mickey yelled, exasperated and out of breath from chasing Ian through the trees. He was swearing profusely as the twigs and brambles tore into his skin and clothes, not cautious of where he was walking, his eyes locked onto Ian’s back.  
  
But Ian didn’t want to stop and he definitely didn’t want to talk, especially to Mickey. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to sit on that fucking dock and wallow in peace. Of course Mickey had to follow him, Ian should have known better than to think Mickey would leave him be, he knew him better than that.  
  
Well...at least he thought he did. He really didn’t know Mickey at all.  
  
He got to the end of the dock, stopping himself from angrily stomping right off the edge. He paced around, pulling at his hair and trying to stave off the tears he felt welling up in his eyes. Ian heard Mickey walking onto the dock, the tell tale creaking of the wood reaching his ears.  
  
“Ian,” Mickey said softly.  
  
Ian held his hand out, prompting Mickey to stop talking. He couldn’t deal with this yet, he needed a few moments to decompress. He stopped his pacing and stood with his back facing Mickey. He stared out into the lake, a view he has permanently etched into his brain by now. He thought he had seen every color the sky had to offer on this dock, but each new sunset always proved him wrong.  
  
Mickey waited, patiently, biting his bottom lip ferociously as the minutes ticked on. He would wait in silence for hours until Ian was ready, he owed him that much. This isn’t how Mickey wanted this to happen, he didn’t want Ian to find out from someone who wasn’t him. He knew that Ian would react badly and he was waiting for the perfect time to tell him. But no time was a good time to tell him that this was it, that these last few months were going to be the last they would have together. It’s never a good time to break someone's heart. He was hoping that waiting until the last possible second would make it easier, but it seems waiting has only made it worse.  
  
After a few minutes Ian turned around, his face and eyes were almost as red as his hair, visibly restraining himself from breaking down at this very moment. He took a few deep breaths, keeping his eyes locked onto the wood of the dock while he spoke.  
  
“Were-were you ever gonna tell me?” Ian whispered.  
  
Mickey nodded frantically and took one step forward. Ian held out his hand again, keeping Mickey from moving any closer. He needed some space right now, breathing was already difficult enough without Mickey’s intoxicating presence next to him.  
  
“I was. I swear to fuckin’ God I was, Ian. I just-I just didn’t know when to tell you,” Mickey said gently.  
  
Ian snorted sardonically, “Unbelieveable. You’re un-fucking-believable, Mickey. Because you’re too much of a  pussy I had to find out like this? From--from fucking _Pete_?”  
  
Mickey took another step forward, Ian not stopping him this time. But Mickey didn’t move too much closer, “I’m sorry, Ian. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I really am. But I-I didn’t want this black cloud hanging over us the whole damn summer. I wanted to enjoy it, wanted it to be how it’s always been.”  
  
Ian gripped his hair hard, frustrated, and then threw his arms out at his sides, “Do you understand how fucking selfish that sounds? What the fuck, Mick? So, what? You wanted to pretend all summer and then rip my heart out right before you jumped into your car and disappeared forever? Who _does_ that?”  
  
“I’m fucking sorry Ian, okay?! Fuck,” Mickey yelled, throwing his head back to look up at the sky quickly before leveling his head and staring at Ian again, “I didn’t want it to go like this, I didn’t want you to find out this way. There was no fucking easy way to tell you I would never see you again, I had to figure it out first.”  
  
“We can see each other whenever the fuck we want, we live in the same fucking city!” Ian yelled, not bothering to control the volume of his voice, “But you refuse to fucking acknowledge my existence outside of this fucking place. What, do you have a fucking wife back home or something? Do you turn into a goblin? What the fuck is it?” he asked jokingly, choking down a laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement.  
  
But Mickey didn’t laugh, Mickey couldn’t even look up from staring a hole into the rotten wood of the dock. Ian’s throat closed up, his breath getting caught in his lungs and tears instantly clouding his vision. “Wait--do...do you have a wife at home?”  
  
Mickey swallowed thickly, the bobbing of his adam’s apple visible in the dimming light. “Yeah,” Mickey breathed quietly, so quiet that it almost got lost in the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the shore.  
  
Ian froze, his whole body feeling like it got doused in ice cold water. He wiped angrily at his eyes with the palms of his hands and turned away from Mickey, trying in vein to stop the inevitable flow of tears from streaming down his face. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, hugging himself so tightly his nails bit into his skin hard enough to almost draw blood.  
  
They stood in silence, the only thing cueing Ian in that Mickey hadn’t ran away from this conversation was the sound of the dock moaning under foot as Mickey shifted his weight.  
  
The sun was setting, slowly disappearing below the horizon and bringing that blanket of darkness down with it. The rays were bouncing off the water, golden pinks and purples reflecting off the surface and illuminating Ian’s tear streaked face in all it’s shame.  
  
“Three years, Mickey. You lied to me for three-fucking-years,” he choked out eventually, directing his laments to the setting sun.  
  
“Aye, I didn’t fuckin’ lie to you!” Mickey replied with ferocity, “I didn’t, don’t fucking call me a liar. What we had here, what I fucking felt for you...what I _feel_ , I wasn’t faking that, wasn’t fucking lyin’ ‘bout nothin’.”  
  
“Do-do you love her?” Ian whispered, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, fucking masochist that he was.  
  
Mickey grabbed onto his arm and forcibly turned him around, icy blue eyes staring straight into watery green with a burning anger. But it was an anger focused at himself, not at Ian. An anger so deep seeded in his fucking being that that fire never went away entirely, just ebbed and flowed like the water underneath their feet.  
  
“No. No, I don’t love her. It’s complicated, okay? I didn’t have a choice,” Mickey said somewhat pleadingly.  
  
Ian ripped his arm away from Mickey, his fury outweighing the heartache, “Bullshit you didn’t have a choice! Everyone has a fucking choice,” Ian yelled. He wished so badly that he wasn’t the one at the end of the dock, that Mickey wasn’t blocking his only exit. His only option was to jump off the dock and into the water and at this point that wasn’t looking like such a terrible idea.  
  
“I fuckin’ didn’t, okay! You don’t know my life, don’t act like you do,” Mickey spit.  
  
“Because you never told me!” Ian threw his hands in the air, “You never tell me anything, Mickey! It’s like pulling fucking teeth with you, Christ. I mean...for fucks sake it took me three months to get you to tell me your goddamn last name!”  
  
Mickey balled his fists up at his sides, the anger and pain pooling into the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill, “Because I didn’t want you to figure it out! I didn’t want you to know who I am back home, who I fucking _have_ to be. I wanted you to see the me that’s here, the me that I want to be. Do you understand that? I can-I can finally fucking _breathe_ when I’m here, Ian. You don’t know what it’s like, you fuckin’ don’t,” Mickey’s voice started to tremble towards the end of the sentence. It made Ian soften his edges a little bit.  
  
Because Mickey was right, Ian didn’t know anything about his home life. He didn’t even know who Mickey was back in the South Side, he was a fucking phantom.  
  
Ian lowered his arms and kept them down at his sides, defeated. “Then tell me. Please. I want to understand, Mickey. I do,” he said quietly.  
  
Mickey huffed, one tear slipping defiantly down his cheek. He wiped it away angrily, embarrassed that Ian had to see this side of him, this weak fucking chicken shit side of him.  
  
Mickey stepped closer to Ian, slowly, so he didn’t startle him. He grabbed onto Ian’s hand and laced their fingers together and just stared down at where they were connected for a few moments. He walked around Ian towards the end of the dock, tugging Ian along with him. Mickey sat down at the end, sitting far too close to the edge and folded his legs underneath him. Ian followed suit, dangling his legs off the end of the dock, his shoes almost grazing the top of the water.  
  
It took him a few minutes, Mickey just staring out onto the lake with misty eyes, taking deep breaths every so often, steadying himself. Ian looked at the side of his face, not strong enough to look away from this beautiful broken man, even now. Even when he was so mad and hurt, he still couldn’t look away from his face. Seeing Mickey in the sunset was always one of his favorite things.  
  
Mickey took one last deep, shuddering breath before speaking, “That first summer--that first summer we met? I got married that year. In February. My dad-” he paused, squeezing his eyes shut quickly before opening them back up again, his gaze never wavering from the horizon. Ian’s never heard his voice sound this fucking small and _hurt_ , “he uh--he walked in on me getting fucked by this guy. He went nuts, smashing shit and punching holes in the wall. He beat the shit out of him, beat him until he was unrecognizable, thought he was gonna fucking kill ‘em,” Mickey paused for a long moment, biting his bottom lip as his chest stuttered with the effort it took to breathe without sobbing.  
  
Ian reached out slowly and grabbed Mickey’s hand, his heart in his throat from where this conversation was headed. He squeezed Mickey’s hand in reassurance, Mickey squeezing back tightly.  
  
“He uh-he got me real good too, swear I couldn’t fucking see straight for a month. Pistol whipped me,” he pointed up to a jagged scar on the side of his forehead, a scar Ian had noticed before but assumed it was just from boyhood recklessness and not from the savagery of his own fucking father.  
  
Mickey continued, “blacked out for a bit. When I woke up the guy was gone, his blood was still wet on the fucking couch. My dad- he uh, he called this hooker, told me she was gonna fuck the fag outta me…”  
  
“Jesus Mickey,” Ian was full on crying now, tears streaming down his face silently. He didn’t even try to hold them back.  
  
“He pointed a gun at us the whole fucking time. Watched. It was so fucked,” Mickey paused, the stubborn tears in his eyes slowly leaking out one by one.  
  
Ian swallowed down the heart in his throat, trying to get it to start beating in his chest again. Out of all the things he thought Mickey was keeping from him, this wasn’t even on his fucking radar, wasn’t even on the same damn planet. Ian couldn’t even fathom someone hurting Mickey like that, bruising and abusing him on fucking purpose. It made him sick to his stomach and instantly angry, wishing that he would protect Mickey somehow, some way.    
  
“Mickey, I am so, _so_ fucking sorry,” he whispered, soothingly moving his thumb against the back of Mickey’s hand.  
  
Mickey nodded, holding onto Ian’s hand so tightly his knuckles were turning white, “Thought I knocked her up. As if everything else wasn’t shitty enough we almost brought a damn kid into that fucking house. He--he uh, forced me to marry her, told me I was gonna raise that fuckin’ kid and live the rest of my life like that. Turns out she wasn’t pregnant, thank fuckin’ god,” Mickey gave out a choked, pained laugh before soldiering on, “but I’m--I’m still married. Still keep her ‘round to keep ‘em off my back. She knows, she’s always fuckin’ known. We don’t even sleep in the same room.”    
  
Mickey turned until his whole body was facing Ian, tears leaking down his face now, not even trying to hold back, he’s done enough of that already. He grabbed onto Ian’s cheeks with both hands, making sure they were looking directly into each other’s red, irritated eyes before he spoke.  
  
“And that’s why you can’t come looking for me, do you hear me? Don’t ruin this, don’t fuckin’ ruin it. What we have here--that’s...it’s, it’s _ours_ okay? This is only ours. He can’t ruin _this_ , he can’t ruin us. It’s been so good Ian, so fucking good. There is nobody who can take away what we have here, no fuckin’ body, okay? That’s why we have to leave it here. It has to fucking stay _here_. Please...please just--just leave it here, okay?”  
  
Ian blinked rapidly a few times, his breathing speeding up. He understood where Mickey was coming from, he understood what it meant to have something that was completely and utterly yours and wanting to keep it like that. It was selfish in a way, but selfish people tend to survive longer. Tender hearts didn’t get very far in the real world.    
  
He understood Mickey’s fear, could see it in his eyes, in his words, could feel it in the trembling of his hands. Even if this would rip his heart out and completely tear him up from the inside, he understood. He really did. He could put Mickey’s safety and comfort above his want, his fucking _need,_ to be with him.  
  
But it felt like his heart was literally ripping apart at the seams, each snap of thread thrumming through his entire body and leaking that dark emptiness down into his very bones. All the anger and hate that previously vibrated through him slipped away and in it’s place resided a hollowness he had never felt before, a hollowness that would probably be there forever if he had to guess.  
  
He slowly nodded his head, his eyes never leaving Mickey’s, “Yeah, yeah...it stays here, Mick,” he whispered.  
  
Mickey let out a choked sob and pulled Ian towards him, their lips instantly slotting together, tasting the salt from their tears on the eachothers lips. Ian immediately wrapped his arm around Mickey’s waist and pulled him closer.  
  
It was an awkward position, Mickey sitting on his knees next to him and Ian with his legs still dangling down from the dock, but he didn’t want to move just yet. He wanted to freeze time and live in this moment forever, with Mickey’s rough hands gently gripping his cheeks and Mickey’s soft lips pressed against his. He was going to miss him so fucking much. Ian could barely survive a few months, how was he supposed to carry on for the rest of his life?  
  
Ian maneuvered them around eventually, moving Mickey to lay flat on his back on the dock as he hovered over him, a position they have been in countless times before. But this would be the last time, the last fucking time that Ian would have Mickey underneath him.  
  
Mickey was tightly gripping onto Ian’s shoulders, his fingers digging into his skin like he was afraid Ian would disappear at any moment. It was slightly painful, but Ian didn’t dare tell him to stop. Their lips moved lazily against each other, not speeding up or impatiently pushing tongues into mouths, just taking the same to savor the feeling of them pushing against each other.  
  
Soon, Mickey placed his feet flat on the dock so Ian was cradled between his knees and pressed up against him. He groaned against Ian’s lips and pushed himself a little bit closer to him until his ass was resting against the front of Ian’s thighs.  
  
Mickey pulled back from the kiss, prompting Ian to open his eyes. He did, staring directly into those icy blue orbs he’s grown accustomed to waking up too.  
  
“I need you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me hard and slow. Make it last, yeah?” Mickey panted out.  
  
Ian groaned, lurching forward to kiss Mickey again, this time lazily pushing his tongue into Mickey’s mouth while he grinded his crotch against Mickey’s. “I don’t-I don’t have anything,” he said.  
  
Mickey gave out a wet chuckle, “you got that condom in your wallet, know you fuckin’ do. That’s got some lube on it, good enough.”  
  
“Yeah but, what about--what about befo-” Ian stammered out, but Mickey interrupted him before he could finish.  
  
“I don’t care, make it hurt. Make it fucking sting. I want to feel it, all of it,” he said.  
  
Ian was reluctant, but he would do whatever Mickey asked him to do; even if he asked him to burn down the whole goddamn world, he would.  
  
He inched forward and kissed Mickey again, slowly, reverently as he pushed his hands underneath his shirt, skimming across his stomach and chest, urging the palm of his hand to soak up all the heat that Mickey’s body was willing to give. He pushed the fabric until it was bunched up uncomfortably under Mickey’s armpits. He backed off of Mickey, sitting back on his haunches as he pulled the shirt over Mickey’s head, quickly reaching down to lift off his own shirt as well.  
  
“Roll over real quick,” Ian said. Mickey furrowed his brows but complied, awkwardly turning onto his side. Ian took the shirt he just pulled off of himself and laid it against the dock so Mickey had something to lay on, not trying to have splinters stabbing into the brunette’s back the whole time.  
  
Mickey rolled over onto the shirt and pulled Ian back down, back into another kiss, like he couldn’t bear to be disconnected for a fucking second. Their chests bumped against each other and it felt like sparks were igniting from their skin brushing together, the frenetic energy brewing in both of them clashing together like storm clouds.  
  
Ian detached from Mickey’s lips, moving his mouth to the side of Mickey’s neck, just licking and tasting and trying to imprint the taste of Mickey’s skin on his tongue. He left a wet trail on the side of his neck, dipping down to lick at the base of his throat, dragging his teeth along with him. Mickey groaned and curled his fingers into Ian’s hair, pulling on the red strands softly.  
  
Ian kept going, dragging his tongue along Mickey’s collarbone, down his chest and further down until he got to his stomach, drinking in every drop of skin that Mickey had to offer, no inch left uncovered by Ian’s mouth. Mickey’s skin tasted different in certain spots and Ian wanted to remember every single distinct flavor.  
  
He hooked his finger in the waistband of Mickey’s shorts and boxers, pulling down the fabric slowly and kissing every new inch of skin that was exposed. Mickey kicked off his shoes as Ian yanked the clothing all the way off until Mickey was laying completely naked against the dock.  
  
He wrapped his lips around Mickey’s dick, pulling him deep into his mouth, dragging his tongue and lips across every inch he could reach. Mickey groaned as he arched up into Ian’s mouth, tangling his fingers tighter in his hair. Ian bobbed his head up and down a few times, sucking and rubbing, getting Mickey as hard as possible before he pulled back and swirled his tongue around the tip, swallowing the sharp taste of Mickey that lingered on his tongue.  
  
Ian moved lower, licking over Mickey’s balls and sucking a mark into his inner thigh. He wrapped his fist around Mickey’s dick, pumping him slowly with one hand while the other reached up to Mickey’s mouth, prodding his lips with the tips of his fingers, asking him to take them inside.  
  
Mickey complied, opening those fucking amazing lips and eagerly bringing Ian into the moist heat, coating his fingers with ample amounts of spit, knowing this was going to benefit him in the long run.  
  
Ian pulled his fingers from Mickey’s mouth, fucking soaked and dripping, and moved them down to his hole. He rubbed the ring of muscle for a moment, giving Mickey some time to relax and try to anticipate the burn that was coming. Mickey took a deep breath, nodding his head down at Ian to let him know it was okay. Ian hummed against Mickey’s skin, moving to wrap his lips around his dick again as he pushed the tip of his finger into his hole.  
  
Mickey hissed with every inch of Ian’s finger that got pushed inside him, the spit doing barely anything to make this an easy slide. Ian kept sucking and bobbing his head, trying to distract Mickey from the burn in his ass as much as he could. He pushed his finger in and out of Mickey slowly, because even if Mickey said he wanted it to sting Ian didn’t want to cause any unnecessary pain; that’s not what he’s about, they’ve both been hurt enough already.  
  
He pulled off of Mickey’s dick with a pop, wrapping his hand around his erection again to make sure it didn’t start flagging. He kissed down his balls, over his perineum and started licking around the finger buried inside the brunette.  
  
Mickey gasped, his muscles clenching fiercely as Ian slowly started inserting another finger alongside the first.  
  
“Relax,” he whispered, knowing this wouldn’t get very far if Mickey couldn’t let the fuck go.  
  
Mickey huffed out a small laugh but took a few deep breaths, his muscles relaxing with each exhale. Ian waited a moment but went back to lapping at Mickey’s hole as he scissored his fingers, trying to get it as slick as possible. He inserted his tongue in between the spread digits, licking into him while still working on prying him open.  
  
Ian couldn’t have been at it for more than two minutes before Mickey was tapping on his head, trying to get his attention. Ian pulled back from his ass and stared up at him, Mickey was propped up on his elbows and looking down the expanse of his heaving chest directly into Ian’s wide eyes.  
  
“I’m good,” he breathed out.  
  
Ian raised a skeptical eyebrow, pushing his fingers into Mickey again, rubbing at his prostate and fully enjoying the way Mickey’s whole body shivered.  
  
“I promise, I’m good. Get in me,” he said through a moan.  
  
Ian scissored his fingers a few more times, making sure to rub up against Mickey’s prostate on every push forward before pulling away completely. He stood up on shaky legs, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and rifling through the stack of old receipts and dollar bills until he found what he was looking for. He held the foil in between his teeth as he completely undressed, staring down at Mickey with heavy lidded eyes.  
  
God, he was fucking gorgeous and with the glow of the setting sun cast upon him he looked goddamn ethereal; his skin red and blotchy in some places, his dick hard and arching up towards his stomach, his pink tear stained cheeks, kiss swollen lips and his blissed out, gorgeous blue eyes staring deeply into Ian's. Fuck, those eyes.  
  
He ripped the foil open with this teeth, taking out the rubber and slowly unrolling it down his cock, trying not to touch the it too much and remove the small amount of lube that was on there. He crouched back down in between Mickey’s spread legs, grabbing him behind the knees and hiking his legs up to wrap them around his hips. Ian waddled forward until he was pushed up flush against Mickey, dropping his hands to rest on his thick thighs. He feathered the fingers of one hand down Mickey’s skin until he wrapped them around the base of his dick and started rubbing it against Mickey’s hole, getting a small amount of lube on the outer ring.  
  
“Eyes on me,” he whispered. Mickey gulped and nodded his head. Ian stopped rubbing the head around his hole and slowly started pushing in, breaching the tight muscle without any problem. He pushed in a little more, pulling Mickey towards him a little by the hips. Mickey hissed a little and threw his hand out to grab onto Ian’s forearm, his nails biting into the skin. Ian pulled out a little bit, only to thrust forward again softly, more of his cock get swallowed by Mickey’s ass, slowly stretching him out, their eyes locked the entire time.  
  
He kept doing that until he was rested completely inside Mickey, hot and heavy, rubbing against all of his sensitive inner walls. Ian sat there for a moment, unmoving inside Mickey, breathing heavily at the feeling. He looked down at Mickey’s body and trailed his hand down his chest until he wrapped it around his dick, his erection having wilted somewhat from the burn in his ass, the lube from the condom not enough to dull the ache as much as Ian had hoped.  
  
Mickey groaned as Ian pulled on his dick, slightly arching up into his hand and pushing down onto Ian’s dick, urging him to start moving. Ian complied, pushing in and out of him a few times slowly to ease Mickey into it, the slide inside of him getting easier and easier each time. Mickey was huffing out tiny little whines that were fucking Ian up and going straight to his dick. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying to swallow down his own sounds so the only noises reaching his ears were the small ones slipping out of Mickey’s mouth like silk.  
  
Mickey reached up and grabbed onto the back of Ian’s neck, pulling him down towards him. Ian fell forward, resting his arms on either side of Mickey quickly so he didn’t squash him. Mickey pulled him into a deep kiss, licking into his mouth and moving his legs to frame Ian’s hips a little higher, letting the redhead know that he was fully ready to take the full brunt of his sexual desires.  
  
Ian moaned into his mouth, gladly thrusting into the keening man underneath him harder and faster, licking into Mickey’s mouth with the same amount of urgency. It felt like he couldn’t breath, like Mickey was literally sucking the air right out of his body. He pulled back from the kiss, but kept pounding into Mickey.  
  
Mickey’s eyes slipped closed, his lip wedging in between his teeth as he rocked back against Ian, letting out a gasping exhale when Ian brushed against his prostate. It was all too much, it was too fucking much seeing Mickey like this and knowing it was the last time. The last time Ian would feel his skin against his own, the last time he would taste his lips, the last time he would be inside him. Connected. Together.  
  
Ian propped himself up on his elbow and had his hand resting against the side of Mickey’s face, his thumb lazily moving back and forth over Mickey’s cheekbone. He slowed the pace of his thrusts, attempting to drag this out. “Open your eyes,” he whispered, desperate to be connected to him in any way possible. Mickey’s eyes dragged open again, heavy lidded and still red rimmed, but staring unwaveringly into Ian’s.  
  
“I love you,” Ian whispered, not even afraid to let these words slip past his lips, not even second guessing his motivation or the real meaning behind them. He did love Mickey, so fucking much, and if this was going to be their last time together he damn well was gonna let the other man know it.  
  
Mickey’s eyes bulged out of his head a little bit, a quick flash of panic appearing in the orbs. He flexed his fingers on the back of Ian’s neck and pulled him in again for another kiss, their tongues dancing together passionately, a dance they’ve dance a thousand times before. But tonight, tonight would be their final dance. They pulled away, Ian resting his forehead against Mickey’s while he continued to push in and out of his body slowly, reverently, treasuring the feeling.  
  
“I--I love you too,” Mickey mumbled against Ian’s lips.  
  
Ian let out a choked sob, a tear slipping down his face and landing on Mickey’s cheek. Fuck, it was so cliche, this summer romance bullshit. Ian thought he was different, he thought _they_ were different. He naively acted like they were invincible, that nothing would be able to tear them apart, that they would always have this. Always.  
  
In a way they always would have this; in their hearts, in their memories, seemingly etched into their skin. And that’s where it would stay. Always a part of them, always there in the back of their minds that what they had was beautiful, what they had was fucking _real_.  
  
But the world was a cruel fucking bitch.  
  
He crashed his lips against Mickey’s and pushed into him a little faster, spurred on by the whines he felt vibrating against his mouth. The kiss was measured and slow, taking the time to feel all of it, fucking remember all of it. God, he was never going to be able to kiss another person again after this was he? Mickey’s lips were going to be the last ones he ever touched, the last ones he ever tasted.  
  
Ian pulled back from the kiss eventually, but he kept his forehead against Mickey’s still, staring straight into his eyes as he whispered against his mouth, their lips brushing with each breathy word he spoke, “I love you so fucking much, Mickey. I don’t-” he gulped hard, a tear streaking down his face again, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”  
  
It’s not like Mickey was a constant in Ian’s life and he had survived plenty of cold nights alone without him. But the reminder that he would eventually see Mickey again always ignited a little spark inside Ian’s body, warming him up enough to fall asleep.  
  
But now there would be nothing. Just emptiness and a deep, deep longing that would never be fulfilled.  
  
Mickey moved his hand from his neck and wiped away the tears streaking down his face, “Don’t think about that right now, okay? Just focus on this, focus on me. I’m right here. I’m right fuckin’ here, okay?”  
  
Ian nodded and dropped his head into the crook of Mickey’s neck, the eye contact too intense for him to handle at the moment. He licked at the skin of Mickey’s neck, greedily sucking a mark into his skin, letting the world know that Mickey was spoken for at one point, that Mickey belonged to someone, that Mickey belonged to _him_.  
  
Mickey moaned and moved his legs further up on Ian’s hips, trying to take him deeper. He skimmed his hand down along Ian’s back down until he got to his ass and gripped onto the taut muscle, pulling him in harder. Ian felt the knuckles of Mickey’s other hand dragging across his lower abdomen from pulling on his dick, slowly.  
  
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” Mickey slurred out, his back arching as Ian prodded at that perfect fucking spot inside him.  
  
Ian wanted to make this last, but it already felt like he was unraveling. He wanted to draw this out for Mickey’s sake, to have this be the best fuck he’d ever have, something that would make him crave Ian at night, an itch that no other man but Ian could scratch. But all the emotional bullshit had turned him into a whiny, blubbering mess when he should have been pounding Mickey through the dock.  
  
Mickey gasped, arching his back again, pushing his chest further against Ian’s. The little whining noises Mickey was making every time Ian pushed into him was really driving him absolutely wild, his mind in a haze like he just smoked a huge joint by himself. He drove into Mickey harder, thrusting forward with a newfound urgency, desperate to have the other man falling to pieces underneath him.  
  
It didn’t take too much, Ian drilled into him five or so more times while Mickey pulled on his dick roughly until he gasped and spilled all over his hand and against his stomach, clenching down hard around Ian’s cock, the muscles in his ass grabbing onto Ian like a goddamn vice. Ian’s hips stuttered, his perfect rhythm getting disrupted from the force of Mickey’s orgasm.  
  
Mickey grabbed onto the back of Ian’s neck again, pulling him down against him further as he wrapped his legs around him tightly, hooking his ankles together so Ian couldn’t pull away. He leaned up until his lips were right against Ian’s ear, his breathy exhales tickling the skin.  
  
“I love you. I love you so fucking much,” he whispered, his voice sounding pained.  
  
Ian let out a moan that sounded dangerously close to a sob and let go, shakily pushing into Mickey as he pulsed into the condom, pleasure ripping down his spine and lighting his fucking skin on fire. He collapsed against Mickey’s chest, breathing hotly against his skin as his body shook and shuddered.  
  
He laid there for a second, just resting against Mickey, resting _inside_ Mickey, trying to imprint himself onto him as much as possible. He propped himself up on his elbows again, looking down into Mickey’s red rimmed blue eyes as he went to pull out. But Mickey flexed his legs that were still wrapped around Ian, clenching around him so he couldn’t go anywhere.  
  
“Don’t. Just-just wait a few minutes,” he whispered, desperate to have Ian inside him for as long as possible, to feel him fucking everywhere, to feel that completeness that he would never feel again.  
  
Ian nodded his head, leaning down to capture Mickey’s lips in another tender kiss as he tried not to move his hips too much, not eager to cause Mickey any discomfort.  
  
He pulled out eventually, Mickey groaning a little bit in discomfort from the raw feeling of it all. Ian apologized softly, pulling on his boxers and shorts after pulling the condom off, and handing Mickey his own wad of bundled up clothes.They laid together on their backs, laying in silence as the sun set and the sky turned charcoal with specs of diamonds twinkling in the vast expanse. Ian wished on every goddamn shooting star that he saw that Mickey would find his way back to him somehow, someday. Ian knew that those stars burned out long ago and the light he was actually wishing on didn’t exist anymore, but there had to be something up there listening, something _had_ to be listening to his heart wrenching pleas.  
  
They fell asleep on the dock that night, Ian laying on Mickey’s chest, trying to memorize the sound of his heartbeat. It was kind of cold, his skin flaring up in goosebumps whenever a small breeze blew over the water but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to jostle this little bubble they had built around themselves.  
  
His eyes slipped closed, hypnotized by the rhythmic rise and fall of Mickey’s chest, the smell of his skin, the feel of his muscles twitching underneath the surface.   
  
And if he whispered _I love you_ against Mickey’s chest every five minutes, Mickey responding without hesitation every single time, no one was around to hear it but the moon and the loudly chirping crickets. He fell asleep quickly, the thumping of Mickey’s heart slowly lulling him to sleep.  
  
When he woke up the next morning from the sun peeking up from the horizon and stabbing into his eyelids, Mickey was gone, like he was never even there in the first place.  
  
Ian didn’t even have the urge to go find the other man, he knew he would be long gone by now, his tires blazing marks into the concrete in his haste to leave this place behind.  
  
To leave Ian behind.  
  
He hugged his knees tightly to his chest and watched the sun pull itself higher and higher up into the sky. He didn’t feel anything that morning; no heartache, no pain, no anger. He was just...numb. He sat there for hours it seemed, unmoving, barely even breathing it felt like. His mind didn’t wake up until he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, buzzing through the fabric and making his skin tingle.  
  
_be there in an hour_   the text from his brother said. He pocketed the phone again and skimmed the pads of his fingers over the dock, hoping the wood still carried the warmth of Mickey’s skin.  
  
But it was cold. Cold and fucking rotten like it always had been.  
  


* * *

   
Lip showed up around 11 with Kev’s truck. Ian was surprised that the rusted, beat up old thing could even make the trip up here twice a year, but so far it hasn’t let him down in three years. Reliable, predictable.  
  
Ian didn’t have much to pack; just two bags full of clothes and toiletries, a handful of blankets and a heartful of regret. Lip carried the blankets while Ian carried the rest, throwing everything into a jumbled mess in the backseat.  
  
Ian leaned against the truck, his eyes scanning over the cottage that he had spent the past three years making love in. The same cottage that had heard so many secrets whispered in the dark and suffered through endless bouts of belly laughs and flirtatious remarks.  
  
The sound of Lip slamming the drivers side door roused him from his reverie. He took one more long, lasting look at that cramped cottage and hopped into the truck, closing the door behind him with finality.  
  
Lip skidded onto the street, barreling down the winding roads like he knew the place. Ian just let him, didn’t tell him to slow down or stop at any time like he usually would have, he just gripped the handle above the window a little bit tighter and tried to zone out. Some weird country song was playing on the radio, the connection shotty and coming through as all static and cutting out completely at some parts.  
  
The sound of a lighter flicking to life reached Ian’s ears, the scorched smell of paper and tobacco permeating throughout the truck.  
  
“So, you coming back here next year?” Lip asked, the smoke from his cigarette floating out the window.  
  
Ian sighed and turned his head to gaze out the window, trying to tamper down the memories that came flooding back like a tidal wave. Every fucking spot in this town reminded him of Mickey, every goddamn part of this place had Mickey imprinted on it, like he tore through this town like a hurricane, no inch spared from his destruction. Every fucking street, every fucking corner, every fucking tree was so infected with memories of Mickey that Ian would never be able to extricate the pieces of the other man that have embedded themselves here.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying not to cry like a bitch in front of his brother. He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes aggressively with the palms of his hands. “No. No, I’m never coming back here.”  
  
Lip hummed and nodded like he understood, pulling on his cigarette one last time before throwing the butt out the window, the smoke billowing out of his lips in one large, grey cloud.  
  
The smell made Ian sick. **_  
_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue should be up soon! Won't keep you waiting for long. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I wouldn't keep you waiting long. Short and sweet, like I promised. :)

_**iv.** _

November was always a weird month. Everything was already dead by then, the trees completely barren, the dried up leaves still blowing around the concrete, kicking up into miniature tornados if the wind hit just right. November was right on the cusp of winter, but it still clung on to the autumn vibe with an icy grip like it didn’t want to completely freeze over and die quite yet.  
  
Ian had been in a haze since the end of August, still missing that huge chunk of himself that got torn off in Pistakee. He still felt numb, not fully regaining the feeling in his body from when he woke up alone on that dock. His family was worried, always asking questions and fucking joking around trying to pull him out of this funk he was in. But nothing worked, nothing fucking mattered. Not even the taste of his favorite holiday quickly approaching could rouse him from his sour mood.  
  
Lip had come home from college the week before Thanksgiving, meaning they had to squeeze all four boys back into that room again, Carl bitching insistently about having to move to the bottom bunk. It felt like old times, something nostalgic and comfortable to cling onto so he didn’t slip away completely. Ian wasn’t sure if this whole thing with Mickey was making him feel like he was stuck in the mud or if it was something much more insidious creeping it’s way into his life. He just couldn’t shake this feeling of emptiness no matter how hard he tried. Getting out of bed somedays was a downright fucking struggle, the point of carrying on seemed moot.  
  
He was laying in bed, feet crossed at the ankles and hands resting on his chest, his thumbs tapping against his body every so often. He felt twitchy and uneasy, like he was crawling out of his skin, his brain running a mile a minute, jumping from one idea to the next but never managing to land on anything concrete. He couldn’t pinpoint what was happening to him recently but all he knew was it wasn’t fucking good. If he wasn’t wallowing under his pile of blankets he was fucking running around like a madman.  
  
Lip came barreling into the room, the door slamming open with a bang as he threw his coat onto the top bunk. He walked over to the dresser near Ian's bed and pulled open the top drawer with gusto.   
  
“Get up, we’re getting fucked up tonight,” he said with a smile, pulling out a bag of pot and some rolling papers. Lip moved to the end of Ian’s bed, throwing his legs off the side and sitting down at the end of the mattress with a slight bounce.  
  
Ian sighed and sat up, since his brother forcibly moved him into an uncomfortable position. He ran his hands through his hair, which was much longer on top than it ever was during the summer, Ian not really in a rush to cut it. He found comfort in feeling the silky strands run through his fingers when he was trying to calm himself down at night, there was just something so soothing about the feeling.   
  
Lip had a DVD case resting on his thighs, breaking up weed with his thumb and index finger, the dust dropping in a line onto the rolling paper.   
  
“We’re gonna smoke this fucking joint and then head to the Alibi. Kev said he would hook us up all night. Gonna get you so drunk you forget all about that Milkovich kid,” Lip said, throwing a quick smile at Ian.  
  
“He wasn’t just some fuckin’ kid. I love him,” Ian whispered, his voice sounding broken and small even to his own ears.  
  
Lip scoffed, licking his tongue along the glue strip of the paper before rolling the joint between his fingers until it was sealed, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. Lip placed the joint to his mouth, sparking it up before speaking.  
  
“No. You don’t. You love the _idea_ of him,” Lip said, exhaling a cloud of smoke before handing the joint over to Ian.  
  
“The “idea” of him? What does that even mean, Lip?” Ian asked, exasperated. Of course Lip wouldn’t fucking understand, Ian’s pretty sure Lip had never been in love with anyone but himself his entire life.  
  
“You don’t even know this guy! You said it yourself he lied to you the entire time you were together, you only know what he showed you, you only know who he pretended to be. You love this constructed personality that he handcrafted and acted out, he put on a fucking mask every morning. You don’t really _know_ him, Ian, therefore you can’t fuckin’ love him,” Lip shook his head, like Ian was a fucking dumbass for loving someone who he, evidently, didn't  even know, “you deserve better than that.”  
  
Ian laughed out loud, but it was cold and maniacal and far from jovial. “Fuck you, Lip. Honestly. Fuck. You,” Ian bit out, inhaling hard from the joint like the smoke would cure his anger. He paused before his tirade went further and tried to will away the bitter tears he felt forming in the corners of his eyes. He sighed deeply and spoke barely above a whisper, “I know what he felt with me, you can’t fake that.”  
  
“Come on man, no one meets the love of their life when they’re sixteen. It was a summer fling that lasted three seasons. This ain’t Grease dude, you’re not gonna fly off into the sunset and be with this guy for the rest of your life,” Lip said, lighting up a cigarette and allowing Ian to hold onto the joint, he needed it more than Lip at this point.  
  
Ian smashed a fist against his thigh before he jolted up from the bed and started stalking around the room. “How could you possibly fucking know that, Lip? You weren’t there, you weren’t part of our-our.. _.relationship_. You have no fucking idea how I felt about him, how I _still_ fucking feel. What if he was “the one”, huh? How the fuck do I get over that?”

He knew he looked fucking crazy right now, pacing around their small bedroom, the smoke from the joint blowing out his nose making him look like a goddamn dragon. But he didn't care what his brother thought about him, especially regarding this situation. 

Lip didn’t understand, Ian didn’t expect him too. Love was disposable to Lip, something he used to charm girls out of their pants and into his bed. Lip’s never fucking felt what Ian felt, he’s never had what Ian and Mickey had, there’s no possible way that Lip could comprehend the pain that he’s feeling right now. The desolation. The sheer fucking loneliness.  
  
Lip raised the cigarette to his lips, pulling in a deep lungful of smoke. “Alright, alright I get it. But dude, you gotta move on. It’s been four fucking months, Fiona’s ready to hide all the knives. She’s worried. You’re acting too much like fucking Monica, it’s scarin’ her man. Gotta get back up on the horse. You can’t keep wallowing in this shit, you’ll never get over him. It’s time to move on,” Lip said.  
  
Ian scoffed, throwing a glare in his brother's direction that would turn lesser men to stone. He pulled on the joint again, taking such a long drag that he nearly killed the thing in one inhale.  
  
“Fuck you, Lip. Just-just fuck you,” he puffed out that last lungful of smoke and jammed the joint into the ashtray on his dresser with force, imaging the roach was Lip’s fucking head. He turned towards the door and grabbed the scarf hanging up on the coat rack and wrapped it around his neck, muttering nonsensically under his breathe.  
  
“Where are you going?” Lip asked, standing up from the bed and taking two small steps towards his brother.  
  
“None of your fucking business,” Ian snapped, yanking his jacket off the hook before he pulled open the bedroom door roughly, stomping down the stairs as he pulled the jacket over his shoulders.  
  
He slammed the front door shut, alerting the whole house to his childish temper tantrum. Once he was standing outside on the porch he just took a moment to take a deep breathe. The cold, brutal air stabbed into his lungs, causing his breath to stutter momentarily. He welcomed the sharp pain, it was a reminder that he was still alive, that he could survive with this pain, that it would ease eventually, just like his lungs acclimated to the weather.  
  
Ian held his hands up to his face, cupping them around his mouth as he huffed some hot breathes into his palm, his fingers feeling cold already. He didn’t really have any idea where he was going, he just knew he needed to get out of that room and away from his brother before he dangled him out the window by his ankles. He just wished he was more prepared, he had no gloves and he forgot his cigarettes on the bedside table. Fuck.  
  
He shoved his hands into his pockets and jogged down the stairs, kicking open the gate to the fence and wincing a little bit when it swung open with more force than he intended. Ian didn’t know where he was going, just allowed his feet to carry them wherever they wanted, one foot in front of the other taking him further and further away from that house and his siblings judgemental, prying eyes.  
  
None of them understood, there’s no fucking way they did. Fiona was just as bad as Lip in the romance department. Even though she loved just as fiercely and hard as Ian did, she was just as cold and pessimistic as Lip. He was alone in his misery and it fucking hurt. It would take more than a few months to get over this and his family wasn’t helping matters at all.  
  
Ian shook his head self deprecatingly as he kept his eyesight focused on the ground, watching his boots shuffle along the pavement, sometimes kicking up some snowy slush that hadn’t yet melted from the small blanket that fell last week. He should have picked his head up, he would have been able to avoid running straight into another person on the sidewalk and nearly bowling them over in his haste to get far, far away from that house.   
  
“Aye, watch where you’re going tough guy,”  
  
He knew that fucking voice. Ian jerked his head up, almost cracking the person on the chin with how fast he moved. He wasn’t sure if all his memories were just starting to reveal themselves in startling technicolor reality or if he was really that far gone that he was hallucinating. The way the passed few months have been going he wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.  
  
His mouth opened and closed a few times, not sure that he would be able to speak when the time came. “Mickey?” he whispered eventually, his eyes blinking rapidly.  
  
Mickey waved his hand in the air, a smirk dancing across his face. “In the flesh,” he said, his voice wavering somewhat, like he was nervous, that confidence and cockiness that Ian was accustomed too was hidden under a layer of uncertainty.  
  
Ian couldn’t fucking breathe, staring into those bright blue eyes again for the first time in a few months was like diving headfirst into the deep end of a pool. He didn’t think he would ever see those eyes again, doomed to forget the exact shade of blue that they were. It was weird seeing Mickey in something other than his summer clothes; his arms and chest covered by multiple layers and a thick jacket, that soft black hair hidden underneath a knit hat and those delicate fucking hands kept warm by a pair of fingerless gloves.  
  
He still looked as good as he always did.  
  
“Wha-what are you, what are you doing here?” Ian asked. His fingers were twitching, he could practically feel Mickey’s soft skin pressed underneath his hands again.  
  
Mickey blew out a cloud of smoke, that goddamn cigarette wedged between his fingers like always. He licked his lips, his eyes darting around the street before answering. “I uh, I needed to see you,” he whispered, sounding small.  
  
_I needed to see you._ By all rights Ian should be pissed the fuck off. Mickey specifically told Ian not to come looking for him. Pleaded, actually, that Ian forget anything between them ever happened. Over and over again, year after year, Mickey made it very clear that Ian didn’t exist to him outside of Pistakee. That what they had was a summer thing that was destined to stay that way forever. Ian should clock him in the jaw for having the gall to be the one to break his own fucking rule and come looking for _him._  
  
But he wasn’t pissed. He was fucking relieved and he wanted nothing more than to wrap Mickey up in his arms again. Ian stepped closer, anticipating that Mickey would move backwards and away from him, uncertain about how they’re allowed to act out here, outside the comforts of the lake. But Mickey didn’t move, he stood stock still, even if his eyes widened dramatically.  
  
Ian raised his hand, intent on grabbing onto Mickey’s arm, but he lowered it just as fast as he raised it, content to just be standing this close to Mickey again.  
  
“Are you, is-is everything okay?” Ian asked, concerned.  
  
Mickey swallowed, his eyes downcast as he took the last hit off his cigarette before throwing it into the slush, the embers fizzling out with a quiet hiss. He looked up, his face soft and delicate, a happy grin cracking across his lips.  
  
“Yeah, yeah everything is okay. My dad kicked the bucket,” he said. But it didn’t sound morose or hurt, the whole sentence was said with an air of indifference and an underlying hint of joy.  
  
“Oh shit,” Ian said, this time raising his arm and latching onto the fabric of Mickey’s jacket, wishing it was summer for multiple reasons. But at this specific moment he was wishing it was summer so they would be touching skin to skin without all this extra fabric.  
  
Mickey just looked at Ian with that small smile still on his face, his eyes wide and hopeful. Open and vulnerable. “Oh. Shit,” Ian said again a little softer and slower than before, the full weight of what Mickey said finally registering in his brain.  
  
Mickey’s dad was dead, six feet fucking under, lifeless and decaying. He wouldn’t be able to actively hurt Mickey ever again. There was nothing keeping them from being with each other and picking up exactly where they left off, knotting those loose ends together that have been dangling in space and causing Ian to feel empty since the end of August.  
  
“Does that, does that mean…” Ian started, his throat closing up halfway through the sentence. He didn’t want to sound to hopeful only to get his dreams crushed. Again.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. If you wanna,” Mickey said quickly, nodding his head eagerly.  
  
Ian didn’t give a fuck that it was the afternoon and they were standing in the middle of his neighborhood in the South Side, he didn’t give a shit if anyone saw them right now. He dove towards Mickey and wrapped him up in his arms, squeezing tightly and gripping the fluffy down of his jacket in his fists. “Yeah, of course I fucking wanna,” he mumbled into Mickey’s shoulder.  
  
Mickey was hesitant at first, Ian could feel it in how tense his shoulders were. But he relaxed, secure in the knowledge that Ian wasn’t going to let go anytime soon, and he raised his own arms to wrap around Ian’s body, one hand gripping onto the back of his bent neck. Ian almost moaned from how good it felt, how even through with their heavy jackets and sweaters, Mickey was able to warm his body in a way that nothing else could.  
  
Ian lifted his head from Mickey’s shoulder and looked into those open and deep blue eyes, his own eyebrows furrowing as he remembered something. “What about your wife?” Ian asked.  
  
Mickey scoffed, squeezing the back of Ian’s neck as he licked his dry, chapped lips. “What wife? Got divorced a few weeks ago,” he smirked.  
  
Ian choked down what felt like a sob but actually was a relieved laugh and pulled Mickey back against his chest, pressing a kiss to the bottom of his hairline right behind his ear.   
  
He wasn’t sure how long they were standing there, could have been seconds, could have been a whole hour, it didn’t matter. All he knew was that Mickey was here, with him, in his arms and he wasn’t trying to let go anytime soon.  
  
They untangled eventually, they fucking had too, Ian wanted to look at Mickey’s beautiful fucking face again just to make sure that this was real. Ian pulled back, his arms coming down to grip onto Mickey’s biceps, Mickey’s hands holding onto Ian’s forearms, making sure he wouldn’t move to far away.  
  
“Wanna go for a ride? We got a lotta catchin’ up to do,” Mickey said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Ian punched him lightly in the shoulder, but nodded his head.  
  
They walked halfway down the street, Mickey’s black Mustang sitting pretty not to far up the block. Ian wondered what he did with it at night, he certainly wouldn’t trust anyone in these neighborhoods not to steal the fucking thing.  
  
Mickey opened the door for Ian like he always did, Ian sliding into the seat with a practiced ease, grinning up at Mickey as the black haired man slammed the door in his face, his own grin stretching across his face. Mickey plopped down in the driver’ss seat a few moments later and started the engine, that old familiar growl rumbling through the vehicle.

Mickey peeled away from the curb, his tires skidding across the icy concrete for a moment before catching traction. Ian was hoping that Mickey would take them somewhere they could be alone, he was planning on kissing him for a long, long time as soon as he got the chance.  
  
There was just one thing that was nagging at the back of Ian’s mind and he needed to know the answer. “How did you find out where I lived?” he asked, smirking as Mickey barked out a quick laugh, glancing at Ian briefly before focusing his eyes back on the road.  
  
“Begged Pete to look through your records and text it to me,” Mickey said, unashamed.  
  
Fucking Pete. Ian rolled his eyes and slid over the leather seat and grabbed onto the back of Mickey’s neck and dragged his head closer so Ian could place a tender kiss on his cheek. “I’m so fucking glad you did,” he whispered into his ear.  
  
He nuzzled his head into Mickey’s neck, inhaling his scent softly and humming in satisfaction. That familiar smell seemed to relax every single one of Ian's constantly vibrating nerves, a calmness washing over him that he hadn't felt in months. He didn’t give a fuck if he was distracting Mickey while he was driving, he needed to be close to him, to feel him, to hear him breathing and know that he was really sitting next to him.  
  
It wasn’t perfect and they had a lot of shit to sort out. But together, they would figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and for being patient with the posting schedule! I can be found [here.](http://mckmlkvch.tumblr.com/) ♥
> 
> fyi, I might write some small one shots that fit into this universe in the future, so keep your eyes peeled for those. ;]


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